Through the dawns and dusks reflecting on the holy grail as a recitalist, I remember commanding the view of the audience in front. This magnificence lets the raindrops of fresh inspirations fall upon the previous darkness, leading me to a brighter horizon.

Experiences of performing overseas were, in retrospect, without any doubt precious moments. Notwithstanding my past disquiet that my Japanese-written manuscript would not sound with the right sense for the audience in a foreign land, this hypothesis was entirely blowed off thanks to their devotion; they sprang out of the tangling of semantic restraint unexpectedly lightly, and they instead instinctively accomplished their authentic understanding of the sheer jubilance of interaction. My participations in such a spectacular event depicted the inner truth that they were spinning their own euphoria where they could be back to their infancy, remembering the ebullience of aimlessness, which finally contributed to the veritable comprehension of my words; their very jubilance was not in the decoding of a foreign language, but in the cheerful interaction with the unacquainted.

The ensemble of reciting was, in truth, the place of interaction between the flowers of lives above the resonance of Japanese. It was there, as if the infants were breathing the beauty of freshness and aimlessness into that space. And this experience does let me define the reciting; it is what harmonises us with the wonder of words, placing ourselves in an interaction of lives.