- Excerpt -

He was once pushed by an unknown force, dizzied and lost in the summer of Kanagawa. The one he cherished always remained just out of reach, his first love naive and unexpected, like a ripe pomegranate that tastes surprisingly bitter upon the first bite.

Before him, an eternal sea always sprawled, its calm waves silently engulfing the soul he deemed inconsequential. He stood, for what felt like eternity, at the fringe of a solitary island, until a hand reached out, pulling him away from his perpetual wander.

"Then let's cross it,” a voice said.

The kite's string, held firmly, whisked him away in an instant to the distant shores beyond.

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- Postscript -

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This summer was painted in strokes too vivid and bold, I wish it never fades. I'm well aware that no one can hold onto passion with unwavering focus forever; summer always leaves, and it has already gone. Yet, summer will return, with its warm winds and waves visiting on schedule every year, so the story never really ends. In countless worlds, we sketch, and watch a chapter of their lives unfold. Even after both the authors and readers have left their seats, in unseen corners, their endless tales continue.

Between August and October, I found myself gazing at the sea several times, having not visited the shoreline in perhaps four or five years before that—the same sea bore witness to the end of one chapter of my life and the beginning of another. Listening to the endless waves and sea breezes of the American West Coast, their stories swiftly danced through my mind.

I think I've utterly fallen in love with watching the sea.

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