The landscape of ricefields in the Japapnese countryside behind the shoji of the room. It was a tender green field which stretched far and wide.
A light, intensified by the humid nature of the leaves of rice, emited an aura above the field of herbs, already a bit dried by the sun. The green of the rice was the tender green of Springtime, soft and alive, under the warm Summer light.
A sensation of intimacy eminated from behind the shoji.
The ricefield was faraway.
The light filtered through the rice paper which was aging and yellowed.
But all the landscape seemed enveloped by a pale grey opacity, a bit like a mist which had lost all of its humidity. The green of the rice plants
became distanced, losing that aura which evapourated around me.
I opened the shoji, and the ricefield offered its luminescent aura anew.
Long afterwards, the strongest sensation still in my memory, is that of the intense and sweet luminosity, just as the strange sensation of a
neatly contoured landscape which yet, seemed covered in a veil.
