‘The Allure of Lapis Lazuli’
A man and a woman met at a lake.
The man sat on a stone, while the woman lay on a bridge, and they began to talk.
He said, “I’m going to dive. I see a huge golden egg at the bottom. I want to touch it.”
“Is that the moon?”
Plunk.
While the man was still in sight, the woman gathered her courage to follow.
Plunk.
The man was diving so fast that the woman, chasing after him, felt suffocated, but she hooked her viewpoint onto his shrinking back like a fishhook and dove once more.
Then the water accepted her, and her breathing returned.
She felt good and was savoring the water with her whole body when she saw a fish in the distance eating the man’s lapis lazuli eyes.
A golden color shimmered near the man, but it was not a giant egg; it was moonlight shining in from above the ground.
She pitied the man.
The fish swam up next to the woman and showed her how it chewed the man’s eye, opening and closing its mouth, but it did not eat hers.
A thousand years later, they met again.
This time in a small room in the city.
Though they were different people, the man’s eyes were deeply sunken and the woman’s
gills had scars, so they seemed to recognize each other.
Their gazes were watery, but evaporated in the afternoon light. They didn’t know what they wanted to look at.
Suddenly the man said, “I’m lonely!” and began to cry aloud.
Instead of tears, several lumps of lapis lazuli began to pour out of his eye sockets, and the woman was shocked.
The lapis lazuli piled up in the room at a tremendous speed, engulfing both of them, but the most frightening thing was that the man opened the wound in the woman’s gills and threw a piece of lapis lazuli inside.
The lapis lazuli fell into her body, and when it struck her ribs, there was a beautiful high-pitched sound—ring.
The two, thinking “This is enough”, breathed their last in the room now filled with lapis lazuli.
Another thousand years had passed, and the room in the city was now a thicket where countless women lay slumbering.
Here and there came the sound of ringing—ring, ring, ring.
Women, why not fall silent for a moment, so that this beautiful sound does not flatten into sameness?
The memories of many who haunt me entice me.
I am still unable to draw forth that ruri-iro upon the canvas.