廃墟

As I wander through the winding streets of Fujiyoshida, I find myself drawn to each and every abandoned structure I encounter. On the verge between strange and familiar, a bittersweet sense of nostalgia and longing washes over me. In Japanese, there is even a word for it: natsukashii 懐かしい. As I automatically reach for my camera, a thought suddenly strikes me,

”Why do I feel compelled to capture this moment?”

The answer is both unexpected and profound. The ruins are a striking reminder of the transient nature of life.

An analogy of my fleeting existence. At that moment, I realize that the photograph I am about to take is not just a picture of the Haikyo but a self-portrait. The true essence of a selfie, hidden beneath the facade of years spent striving for an idealized image my mind had fabricated.

I gaze upon my reflection in the photograph I’ve just taken, and a sudden ocean of tears fills my eyes. I am not only met with the harsh realization of my imperfections and the marks of time etched upon me but also moved by a delicate and profound beauty that resonates deep within the core of my being. I am struck by the insight that true beauty is not found in the absence of imperfections but rather in their acceptance and acknowledgment. In this moment, I can see myself, my life, and the world around me in a new, beautiful light.

The crumbling buildings of Fujiyoshida’s Haikyos have become the perfect analogy to the ebb and flow of my life, as I see it now. The lightness that lies in the balance between growth and decay, yin and yang, and the bittersweet beauty of love and loss. The fragility of existence and the beauty in accepting the passing of time. A poetic reminder of the true nature of life and the human condition. A realization that nothing beautiful and truly loved lasts forever and somehow, this impermanence makes it all the more precious.