Tuning into the radio, my teacher would vividly describe the bustling business scenes of New York and London, seamlessly switching between fluent English and Japanese.
Listening intently, a 13-year-old boy thought to himself,
“What they’re teaching us in school is wrong.
I will believe only in the future that lies beyond those clouds.”
He made this vow while standing in the middle of rural fields,
dreaming of a freedom that spanned half the globe.
Decades later, the day finally came when I could meet my teacher in person while he was still alive. The moment felt like destiny. I expressed my heartfelt gratitude to him, and in return, he gave me a signed copy of his book, complete with a personal message. I was overwhelmed with emotion, the sound of church bells ringing in my mind.

” The sky lay “.
a stream of our echoes.
I’m not quite sure how close I am to reality.
Always on the hunt for the next tone that links me to others.
Between them,
The sky lay — vast and endless.
It’s a stream of our echoes.
With a brief spring holiday,
I pause,
Then move,
Drawn in by the scent of new leaves.
— s-ikt a stream of our echoes.
“The sky lay“
( C melody from “nozomi “wishesliner” ( carol of the bells )” )