Line 13

A girl once sang, “The boundary line has disappeared,” and then she died.
For me, an unforgettable boundary line was drawn becoming the catalyst for noticing the “time” and “existence” left behind in photographs, and for my strong desire to keep preserving the “now.”

Unable to face directly the joys and sorrows, life and death unfolding before me, I recorded them through the finder. My memories became entirely composed in photographs.
It was an act of acknowledging blurred memory and reality - perhaps the only way I could still breathe.

That breath shifted and settled into photographs in yet another form.
I believe it was the “now” that could only be captured in that moment.

“Time” and “existence” quietly turn into darkness, yet continue to shine.
And from here, once again, something new will begin.

(From the Afterword)