Small flowers by the roadside (_itokanasikimonotachi_)

Life is like a blowing wilderness


The music used for the slides was

Marco Lucchi
A waltz against the empires

Life is like a blowing wilderness

Whenever I look at my smartphone or laptop at the dinner table, the cat always makes little noises. Is it a protest that I am here and you are looking at those things, leaving me alone? I say yes, yes and go to the cat's side, but the cat doesn't even let me touch her. I have no choice but to lie down on my side and look up at the ceiling. The cat crouches at a perfect distance from me and makes a characteristic cat noise, a rumbling noise, which sounds from the back of her throat, or rather her nose. As I listen to the sound, I rub and squeeze the middle and ring fingers of my right hand. My second joint has a spring finger, which was once relieved by a steroid injection about two months ago. As the cause of why it happens is unknown, a radical cure seems to be difficult. If it remains bent, it may have to be treated surgically. There is nothing else to do but to keep on rubbing it out on my own, and keep on going along with it cheating and deceiving myself. The mosquito eye has become less bothersome, perhaps because I have been shut up in a dimly lit room for so long.

When I was lying down for a while, a verse from Tetsuo Saito's 'The Troubled One' came to mind: 'Life is like a blowing wilderness'. I suddenly wanted to know whether it was pronounced 'arano' or 'areno'. 
I think it was 1971 when I first heard the song. I still vividly recall the red jacket of that single record, which I borrowed from a friend.
I thought it should have been sung as 'arano', but when I listen to it more closely now, I realise that it is sung as 'areno'. It sounds like it could be taken either way. The lyrics were also '荒野', not '曠野'.
Apparently, it was a selfish assumption on my part.
After realising this, I suddenly thought of the face of this doll.
A person wandering alone in the wilderness.
Wth quiet meditation as his companion on his journey.
It is a state of being that I cannot imitate, but that is why I long for it.