I returned to the island for a three-day, two-night stay from the 20th to do the final grass cutting of the year.
It was a mild, warm day. However, I knew that our next trip back to the island would not be until late December, so I brought out the kotatsu and stove and prepared for winter.
Just before noon on the 21st, I saw about 10 people wandering around in front of Ebisu Shrine. I called out to them and they told me that they came from Hagi to see the Towa Town Folklore Museum, but had time so they came to Okikamuro. They visited Ebisu Shrine and was surprised to see that many of the names on the stone fence were from the places where people had migrated to. They said that They were looking for a monument to Tsuneichi Miyamoto in front of Ebisu Shrine. At first I didn't understand what it was, but when I noticed that the inscription expressing the islanders' gratitude for the bridge being built was written by Miyamoto, I showed them around.
I went for a walk in the afternoon. Mr. K, who had delivered newspapers for many years, was retiring this month for health reasons. His successor was Mr. M. When I met him the next day and talked to him, he told me that he couldn't deliver the newspapers every day, so they were discussing what to do when the time came. Life without writing is unthinkable, so I hope that several people will help each other and continue delivering the newspapers. Perhaps this is the luxury of those who have left the island...
I get home at 3pm and enjoy my golden hour. I have the usual prosciutto and kiwi, and the book I read is "Daily Maps," a tribute to the poet Shuntaro Tanikawa, whose death was announced on the 19th. It was a book that I couldn't handle, as I don't usually pick up poetry books. As I read aloud, I found something that struck me. I first encountered him on the LP "Ima Ikiteiru to Yukoto" (To be alive now), in which Komuro Hitoshi set music to his poems. In the LP, there is a phrase in the poem "Ikiru" that stuck in my mind: "…To encounter all beautiful things, and to carefully avoid hidden evils..." After that, I bought several of his poetry books at a second-hand bookstore. Later, I found this poem in a supplementary reader for my child's elementary school, and the book is still on my bookshelf. I turned on the stove, drank, and read, and fell asleep. When I woke up, it was completely dark. My day at Kamuro was over.
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