- The Playful Water -
The air with moisture is seizing the smell of the port town.
Genova who used to see off those crossing the Atlantic in the distance
possesses enough sunlight to dry the tears of those people.
In a brief moment of silence, an illusion-like scenery gradually unfolds on earth.
The enthusiastic light was pouring on the fountain,
and I could hear the sound of a guitar floating out from within the surrounding building.
It was a gentle sound, subtly touching the chord in my heart.
I am somehow feeling the joy of being helplessly caught in the real world but this reality is giving me a sense of frustration at the same time.
The reflection of the window on the water surface
blocked this awkward feeling as if it were a coupled mirror.
With no clue as to what lies ahead, phrases of mercy is what one would miss.
Before I knew it, the sound of voices became a hum
blending with the pathetic sound of melody.
I imagine that by going with the flow, people manage to return back to the real world.
There is nothing more praiseworthy than of having the courage to acknowledge one’s own subtle sense of struggle.
The peppermint colored grass floating swayed,
and the shining surface of the water was carried away by the sunlight.