（続き）
Misanthropic shut-ins.
Disheartened.
Yet, my heart is moved when I spot an unfamiliar light before noon.
It was far away from the window, but the sunlight shining through the skylight of the storage room created shadows.
A small space.
The light there would only be there for a short time.
Only with this 38 cm bisque doll could this light remain. I thought.
While taking the picture.
I thought of the seaside landscape of New England.
An old two-storey wooden house.
The wind blowing through the board walls and the barn door repeatedly closing and opening.
In such a landscape, I thought of a girl who appeared in Shuji Terayama's tanka poems about youth.
White underwear and a straw hat.
Her red lips and bisque skin looked soft.
"I never touch the flowers."
Muttering out-of-place words without any context,
A brief moment passed.
