capturing in prose
なんという名前かは知らないけれど、気がつくとあちらこちらにあって形もそれぞれ。身を乗り出して窓を止める朝の様子にはどこか生活感が漂って、不思議と雨戸の音を聞くような懐かしさを覚える。
I don’t know what it is called.
There seem various types of shapes but it is always simple and prepared only for fixing window doors.
A Part of Mostly Monochrome Monday
It was a very small seedling of Japanese maple, just one inch (3 cm). A young teacher found it in a park which was build on a historic spot and she brought it back to her home to show it to her small daughter. 20 years later, the tree grew up and was becoming tall. Her daughter moved to a different city and the tree was too big in her garden because it was just next to other trees. Finally she decided to cut down the maple tree in memorial. I don’t know how it is. At least, it was there at least several years after her decision.
庭もないコンクリートの上に何年も住んでいると思い出のものといえば何もかもが工業製品になって、どこか後ろめたい感覚がしてくる。そんなにストイックにならなくても良いだろうに、自然なものが何かなければならないような気がしてくるのは、本能なのか単なるエゴか。
A contribution to A Photo a Week Challenge: In memorial by Nancy Merrill Photography.
Someone said it would not stop raining anymore, we have no choice but to accept it. Wet and twinkling mushroom bitten by someone pleasant and fresh green weeds haven’t thought such whatever.
もう雨が降り止むことはないだろうと誰かが言った。それを受け入れるしかないのだと。森の奥で誰か愉快な奴がかじりとったキノコと瑞々しい緑の下草は、そんなことも考えたことはないだろうに。
A Part of Wordless Wednesday
ガラス越しに覗き込むクリスマス前に閉ざされた街。
Closed town through the window before Christmas.
A Part of Mostly Monochrome Monday
