One day, Seicho Matsumoto's "Sand Container" was screened in the underground theater. The movie showed the scenery of old Japan. I had only been to Atami and Kyoto, but I felt nostalgic.
One day, Hana had a dream: I was swimming in the Sumida River, parallel to me, and diagonally above me, my mother was flying.
One day, Ah Qiu stopped breathing. In human terms, it is a hundred years old.
One day, I lost Hua's wallet. She said not a word, and her steps were serious and hurried. I feel like I have become a very old person.
One day, I saw a physical model of Oden, and my emotions surged up like hot water: The world after death must be very lonely. There wasn't such excitement in that world. I want to live in a world full of these things for a while longer!
…
The last journey of life between mother, daughter and her beloved cat. Eating three meals a day and traveling with a companion, the peaceful depths of daily life stir up a surge of memories from time to time.
Yuriko Takeda is a late-blooming but also a born essayist. With a child-like vivid and intense vision, she describes the sudden and smile-inducing details, the changing scenery of the four seasons, and the people who are wrapped up in the premonition of death and the nostalgia for life, and who walk non-stop day by day.
Her diary is the branches and leaves of life. It is still breathing when you pick it up.
