The afternoon sun penetrates through the kitchen window.

As I shift my eyes outside the window, I see reflections of sunlight brought by leaves of trees convey the arrival of summer.

From the opening of those trees, I see apartments, houses and mountains afar.

Out the window is the same scenery I saw since my childhood, with mountains in the corner.

I have spent several months of a year in one of the remotest places in the Northern Japan Alps for the last few years.

Up to then, mountains for me were mere black shadows on the evening sun, but my time spent at Kumonodaira, which is beyond several rivers and mountains, made me recall an important “something” that I have long forgotten.

I cannot quite explain what that “something” is yet.

My search to understand that “something”, may be what drives me to go into the mountains..

As I sit on a sofa in the living room, a random thought comes into my mind that the wind, swaying the room curtain and leaves seen through the window frame, and clouds floating in the sky were both born in that mountains of the Japan North Alps. When I live moments in Kumonodaira as a part of my daily routine, I feel the mountains becoming a very familiar existence to me.

Then, I recall the scent of rain wetting soil even though there is no rain, and the lightness of breeze sweeping past sprouting mountains from seeing the flapping sheets in the garden. These memories of Kumonodaira tell me about that “something” even when I am away from the mountains.