枯野

Withering Field

As seasons turn from autumn to winter, the wind temperature drops and the fields lose their colour. The golden stalks seen as far as the horizon are harvested, and soon after coloured leaves are blown from the trees.

In this town, the scenery of both farming villages and industrial cities exist intricately, and for me, it always seems to be painted in gray. Diesel trucks run throughout boundless rice fields, while over farming fields we can see the walls of factories. Although our eyes are able to see the horizon, lifeless barracks stand blocking them. I grew up in this town. This inorganic, yet somehow well-thumbed world always appeared to me like a sketch in monochrome, as if the view is constantly being altered. However, the longer I’m away from this town, the less it feels changed.

The shape of the town, that merely stands as is- not running down, nor passing away— seems like a negative image fixed on a plate. From the memories I have of winter and fall, where everything loses their colour, I’ve considered this town to be the place I’d like to go back to someday.

Through the scenery eyes rove, and focused the instant something disappears on the retina. However, by farther walking away, the horizon becomes discoloured; even though waiting all my life spring wouldn’t come, as one whispers in my ear, I feel anxious.

枯野

秋から冬へと季節が移るにしたがって、風の温度は下がり、野は次第に色を失っていく。地平線まで見渡せるような黄金色の稲穂はすべて刈り取られ、木々の葉は色づいたかと思えば風に奪われ裸にされていく。

この町には農村の風景と、工業都市の風景が入り組むように混在し、ぼくにはそれがいつでも灰色に見えた。トラックが行き交う道のすぐ脇からは水田が広がり、畑の向こうに工場が見える。地平線まで遠くが見えるかと思えば、無機質なバラック小屋が目の前に立ちふさがる。ぼくはこの町で生まれ育った。この無機質で有機的な世界は、いつでも灰色に思えた。その風景はいま、変わりつつあるようでいて、しかし、ぼくがこの町を離れる時間が長ければ長いほど、戻ってきたときの風景は変わっていない。

いつか帰るところ、と思いつづけた町が、寂れていくでもなく、廃れていくでもなく、ただただあり続けるその様子は、まるでネガティヴに定着された反転画像のようだ。思い出す風景は主に冬であり、秋であり、すべてが色を失う世界だ。その風景の中を眼球は彷徨い、視線の先に像を結ぶのは、なにかが潰える瞬間のようで、どこまで歩いても、地平線は色づかず、いつまで立ち尽くしても春は来ない。そう告げられるようで、心許ない。

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