cd /writes

cat 2025-01-14/in-praise-of-shadows.md

Tanizaki Jun’ichirō wrote In Praise of Shadows (陰翳礼讃) in 1933, at a time when Japan was turning quickly toward "the West’s bright lights". He saw beauty in what was being left behind—in dim rooms, in the soft glow of lacquerware, in light that filters in slowly at dusk.

Lately I’ve been thinking about that more. Not just in design, but in how we relate to each other. People are full of contradictions, and that’s what makes them interesting. When something or someone feels too consistent, too polished, it starts to feel suspicious and artificial.

I don’t think clarity is always the goal. Sometimes it’s the hesitations, the things left unsaid, that tell you the most. That’s the space Tanizaki was writing about.

朧月
蛇の影に
見えたかな

Old tea houses used to soften the light with paper walls. You couldn’t see everything at once. Eyes had to adjust, and it was not a flaw. It was part of the experience.

We might all do well to live with some degree of uncertainty. The opposite seems boring to me.

Sometimes I catch myself trying to escape shadows. I must remind myself that I can let them tag along.

cat 2025-01-14/チュリップ.md

君について好きだったこと

• 岩の上に軽やかに跳び上がる姿
• 歩きながら葉っぱに手を滑らせる仕草
• 質問する前に必ず「えー」と言うこと
• 三つの好きな漢字があったこと
• 虚無から電話をかけて「飲みに行かない？」と言うこと
• 僕が君を愛することを愛していたこと

君が僕を愛していなかったとしても

And I wish there was something you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talking anyway
But don't think twice, it's all right