In the scorching heat, I made my way to the “Asbestos Hall Exhibition” at the Meguro Citizens’ Gallery.
Along the Meguro River, a fleeting breeze brushed my cheek the moment I passed beneath the sparse shade of the remaining cherry trees.
The venue held a modest crowd.
Stillness and heat mingled quietly, and the air trembled in a hush.
It was my first time seeing Tatsumi Hijikata’s butoh score.
Line by line, drawing by drawing, words and sketches danced and swelled across the paper, conjuring memories of a body yet unseen.
Ah—so this is what Waguri-san had carried forward.
Realizing that, my chest tightened… and I felt a quiet thrill.
But Waguri-san is no longer here.
Still, I wish I had taken more photographs of him.
Each one, now, is an irretrievable shard of light.
