Words of Apology, Part Two

Dear plants who were played with by me: are you passing your days in good health up in heaven?

When I was little, I did a great many cruel things to you all. Plucking off petals, pinching the skins of fruits to send their seeds flying, making holes in leaves to fashion masks, hooking pine needles together and pulling them apart until they split—thinking of it now, I feel truly sorry to all of you plants who became my targets.

But those acts of that time, when I still had no concept of cruelty and simply did them for the fun of it, were by no means in vain; it seems to me that they taught the grown-up me—having since gained morality and order—the true meaning of cruelty, the preciousness of life, the importance of observing, the joy of imagining, and the sense of accomplishment in expressing.

Even now, within my creative expression there remains a technique of taking you plants apart. Only, unlike the mere sense of fun of those days, I do it seeking out a beauty you could never express in the natural world, and expressing it with responsibility.

I humbly ask for your understanding. You are the teachers of my life’s education. Never forgetting this debt, I intend to go on putting it to use in my creative work and sending forth sentiment from here on.

I look forward to the day I can meet you all again.

Yours sincerely,
Keita Kawasaki