People often say that time passes faster as we grow older. Since moving to rural Kumano, however, the opposite has happened to me. Solo travel, photography, and the changing landscape have made each year feel longer—and summer more fleeting.
In an age of ever-shorter trends, how does culture survive? A reflection on efficiency, AI, fast fashion, and classic menswear—and the choices we make about what deserves our support.
Early April in Kumano. A landscape dotted with mountain cherry blossoms. They appear wild, but may have been planted near old mountain paths and shrines. Once again, I quietly pressed the shutter.
Most people commission tailoring for rare occasions. I do the opposite—and that's made all the difference in how I dress, and how I live.
Why I chose not to order a navy blazer. Considering the challenges of fabric selection, how it fits with my lifestyle, and how often I would wear it, I reflect on what truly guides my choices in clothing.
Who are the people who truly enjoy solo travel? Those drawn to scenery, observant of towns, and able to savor local food and conversation. This essay reflects on the traits of solo travelers that cannot be measured by efficiency or utility.
Letting go of meaning and utility, finding pleasures of your own — the richness of inefficiency and waste is where the joy of solo travel resides.
Not only the destination, but also the air I feel on my skin along the way, enriches the memory of the journey.
I used to think a smartphone and a compact camera were enough for travel. But once I started using a DSLR, the way I engaged with the scenery began to change.
Small shrines quietly dot the backstreets of central Kyoto. Look closely, and you’ll begin to see traces of the fusion between Shinto and Buddhism.