INDIGO WASHI, RED MAPLE LEAVES, GLASS VASE AND PINK HIMALAYAN SALT – project “52”
Autumn sun was a wicked mistress – alluring and deceiving.
Takahiro could smell the snow in the air while thawing his numb limbs from the freezing muddy road and wet old shoes at the porch that late afternoon.
He was fixing the backdoor screen and pushing away the dead leaves that the wind has swept around the doorway and he couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about making ends meet.
Last night the old monk that knocked on the door for donations gave him a handful of pink Himalayan salt.
And told him stories about the land there.
It nested as a good idea to try his luck there and now he was looking at the snowy tips of the Mount Akita-Komagatake.
The roads were already blocked and unreachable from chest-high snow.
Takahiro had to wait for first melts on spring when the passage will be clear.
He was planning a big journey.
And all his hopes were in these pink crystals of salt.
Till next time,
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