Let’s update that one on Friday at 9 p.m., that one on Saturday at 9:30 p.m., and this one on Sunday. That’s what I’ve been thinking from Monday to Thursday. I don’t want to say “I feel like an idiot,” but I do want to say “I feel like an idiot.

After all, what did I want to be? What am I looking at in the end? In the end, what did I want to say?

When I inquire myself, I find myself in the back of the room, not looking at me, but rather, tapping the calculator called a cell phone, and only the numbers are alive and kicking. I wish someone who doesn’t like me would clearly tell me, “This is you now.”

I want someone who doesn’t like me to clearly say, “This is who you are now,” to put their cold fingers in my mouth and make my sleep-deprived heart beat.

Maybe I could feel by expressing in this way the little bit of me that was supposed to be in me.” He also says, “I might think I am feeling. It can be called an attachment that is left behind, and can also be translated into affection. Even though it won’t come back.

I already know that. Even though tomorrow it will be so obvious and so obvious to (all) of us. I feel like an idiot for thinking that (everyone) is my whole world.

I’m not the kind of person who can tap the calculator of my cell phone and join my hands
to God in joy at the numbers that ring through the air all day long.

I wish many good things would fall on me.

photographs: Motohiko Hasui
Model and words: Loveli

 
 
 
 
 
 

It was late summer and the weather was a bit chilly.
After a while, I looked back at the series of photos and found that they had a somewhat mysterious atmosphere.

Instagram.com/motohiko_hasui

model : Izumi Shirahama