A container sits tilted in the middle of the road. A tree in bloom stands beside it. The trees in the background are completely out of focus. Power lines cross the sky. It is spring. When I look at this scene, something heavy remains in the eyes. The weight of recollection. Nothing rises clearly. Nothing becomes sharp. The eyes simply stay there for a long time. The tilted space The camera may have been slightly tilted. The container looks more slanted. Inside this uneven space, the recollection settles heavier. The lack of level feels strangely calm. A container with windows looks like a house. Without the windows, it would only be a storage unit. Recognition builds it that way. I sometimes want to step beyond that recognition, yet I stay inside the tilted space for a while. A direction of slight loosening One side of the tree is in bloom. The other side is not. Perhaps the wind made the background trees even more blurred. That blur loosens the weight a little. It does not need ...

Before the woman appeared, I was simply looking at the sea. My mind was quiet. It was a wide beach. Gentle waves, a distant horizon, a cloudy sky. The black-and-white frame held no special event. I was only standing there, looking at the sea. Just looking The sea opened wide. An endless horizontal space. I did not try to fill it. In a low and quiet temperature, I stayed as I was, letting time flow slowly. My feet rested on the sand. My eyes reached toward the distant lighthouse and island. I was in no hurry. There was no urge to move forward, nor any desire to stop. I was simply looking. What entered by chance Suddenly a woman’s silhouette walked into view. A seagull passed through the sky. Neither was something I had sought. The original scene was just me looking at the sea. They entered by chance and stayed only briefly. I did not follow the woman. I did not chase the seagull. The moment remained low and quiet. The slow flow of time did not change. The space of staying The p...