Between the Vines, Behind the Eyes　

In May, the season had already begun to resemble early summer.
Fukushima, where my friend was born, is a place where the sea and the mountains quietly sustain life.

I walked, following the light that moved across the land.
What I found there was the quiet breath of nature,
and traces of human life woven into it.

Along the coast, young pines planted after the tsunami swayed in the wind,
their slender forms still fragile.
The sea kept moving.

As if trying to loosen the vines still intertwined,
I looked into the clear eyes of an animal
and found something I could not fully name.

Dear, Kaori