A Dreamlike Hour

I traveled to Huis Ten Bosch in Nagasaki for work. It is an otherworldly place that recreates a European townscape where grasses and flowers spread out without end. Unlike the half-baked imitations of foreign culture one so often sees, it is magnificent in every part. It may even be more beautiful than the real face of Europe. And this leisure facility has no flashy rides or high-tech attractions. For that very reason, it is exceedingly comfortable to me.

Clouds drifting across the wide sky, fish leaping in the glittering sea, the beauty of varied plants and the richness of their fragrances, the peaceful chirping of birds, the light hoofbeats of horses crossing the cobblestones, the fresh, dense air, lodgings brimming with refreshing smiles—my heart is simply, utterly healed. Precisely because this is a high-tech age, a space like this feels fresh, filling my five senses in the most unadorned way.

The work finished, I stepped outside the park for the first time in two days. And there, too, spread a beautiful Japanese landscape no less fine than the one within, and I felt a culture shock I had never known before.
—What a happy, dreamlike hour it was.