I am in a taxi on my way to Kiso Valley. I have my backpack with me filled with: my Polaroid camera, emergency money, my journal, a few black pens, a Japanese dictionary, a small lunch, bottle of water, umbrella, and a blue pouch filled with jigsaw puzzle pieces. I roll down the window and put my hand out, feeling the cool breeze moving right through the gaps of my fingers. The taxi driver looks at me from the rearview mirror. “First time in Kiso?” he asked.
I smiled at him. “Yes.”
“Utsukushī. Eien.” (It’s beautiful. Everlasting.)
Even the people speak in beautiful, profound verse. I took out my journal and wrote:
Utsukushī. Eien.
We eventually reached a halt. “Here we are, Kiso Valley,” he said. I paid him and handed him one of my jigsaw pieces. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Just a gift. A small piece to something everlasting,” I said.
The taxi driver chuckled, placing the jigsaw piece in his shirt pocket. “Arrigato!” he said and waved goodbye to me as he drove away in the distance. I started collecting puzzle pieces ever since I watched Tom Shu-Yu Lin’s film Starry Starry Night. I learned the origin of the jigsaw puzzle. Apparently, an English mapmaker stuck one of his maps on a wooden board and cut around the boarders of the town. When he was finished, he challenged his kids to put it back together. When they were finally finished, they were rewarded with the knowledge of where home was. I became influenced to distribute puzzle pieces to strangers I encounter on trips. I want to remind people there’s a bit of home everywhere we go.
I stretched my legs and arms and then began my long journey, in search of the Kiso River. Around me, there was a never-ending sight of greenery. Tree branches spilling forward, a kind gesture of welcoming me with their heads thick with an abundance of leaves. I smiled to myself. He was right. Eien. I followed the wooden steps laid out in front of me and, step by step, I moved closer towards my desired destination. Above me, I saw the sun filtering through the sturdy arms against the gentle blue sky. I closed my eyes and saw a kaleidoscope of various shapes and colors. In the near distance, I saw many families and couples hiking as well. They were all dressed in simple attire, the men carrying backpacks as the women tend to the children.
As I made it to the halfway point, I sat myself on a bench provided and took out my lunch and water bottle. I packed kuri-kinton (chestnut dumplings), a common street food I purchased right before I got into the taxi. The street vender informed me that I came at a right time, for they are only offered during autumn. I took a bite out of it and immediately became fascinated by the crunchy sweetness. One by one, I finished each piece with delight and drank half of my water bottle. I disposed my garbage in a nearby trashcan and continued with my hike.
With more energy, the hike went a lot faster. Before I knew it, I began to hear the flow of water. I walked for a few more minutes, and there, in front of me, was the Kiso River. There were many people surrounding the area, taking photos and enjoying the view. I made my way closer to the water, looking at the buildings on the distant, opposite side. The view reminded me of a miniature puzzle itself. I took a few photos with my Polaroid camera and stood there, enjoying the calm spread of water. I wonder if you are here with me right this very second. I took out a puzzle piece. It was yellow, a color that reminded me of your soul. I waited until people around me dispersed and then eventually threw it in the river. A memory. Just for you.
I went back to Kiso Town and visited the Tokuonji Temple. Immediately, I found myself surrounded by Sakura trees. The wind softly blew and I was tickled by the soft pink petals as they kissed my cheeks and finally, settled near my feet. I picked a few of them up and placed them in between the pages of my journal. A souvenir. I sat beside one of the trees, the one that seemed to match my personality the most – slightly clumsy-looking yet full of motivation to grow. A little girl in a white sweater and a navy blue skirt was blowing bubbles near me. Her mother was a few feet away from her, talking on the phone over what seemed like a light-hearted discussion from the laughter that escaped her mouth.
I turned to the page of my journal that had the Sakura petals and began to write.
Hiking just to say goodbye to your old self,
A kaleidoscope of new shapes and colors within me burst,
I turn towards the direction where the Sakura blow,
Take me closer to where home is.
“What are you writing?” asked the little girl. She came over and examined the words I had just scribbled down. Her curious cheerfulness soon became overtaken by a puzzling look on her face. “I don’t understand!”
I wrote a Japanese translation of it and handed it to her.
“You will one day,” I said to her with a smile.
The mother got off her phone and walked towards us, apologizing to me if her daughter caused any trouble. I simply shook my head and reassured her that there was nothing to worry about. “Ah!” I said, as I quickly rummaged through my backpack for my camera. I asked the mother to take a picture of me walking through the path of cherry blossoms, which she agreed to happily do so.
As I made my way back to her, she said, “It turned out well!” She handed me the photo along with the camera. I stared down at the picture in my hand. Just as I suspected, I saw someone a little more ready to take on the world.
I took out a couple of jigsaw pieces and handed them to her. “One for your daughter. Arrigato.” I smiled at her, doing a quick bow with my head. She looked down at the puzzle pieces as her daughter took one of them with enthusiasm. She smiled back knowingly and bowed her head in return.
I placed the photograph on top of the Sakura petals in my journal, and made my way down the road, watching the sun bob its head for the final time above the surface before diving down.
by Catherine Huang
Currently, I am a senior at the University of Rhode Island majoring in English Literature and minoring in Education. My dream is to become an author of young adult fiction, but I hope to one day enter the editorial field so I can help many other artists at heart publish their important words as well! I am heavily inspired by writers Haruki Murakmi and Banana Yoshimoto. I also very much consider myself a surrealist. Currently, I'm working on a novel while trying to manage living life as optimistically as possible.
I smiled at him. “Yes.”
“Utsukushī. Eien.” (It’s beautiful. Everlasting.)
Even the people speak in beautiful, profound verse. I took out my journal and wrote:
Utsukushī. Eien.
We eventually reached a halt. “Here we are, Kiso Valley,” he said. I paid him and handed him one of my jigsaw pieces. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Just a gift. A small piece to something everlasting,” I said.
The taxi driver chuckled, placing the jigsaw piece in his shirt pocket. “Arrigato!” he said and waved goodbye to me as he drove away in the distance. I started collecting puzzle pieces ever since I watched Tom Shu-Yu Lin’s film Starry Starry Night. I learned the origin of the jigsaw puzzle. Apparently, an English mapmaker stuck one of his maps on a wooden board and cut around the boarders of the town. When he was finished, he challenged his kids to put it back together. When they were finally finished, they were rewarded with the knowledge of where home was. I became influenced to distribute puzzle pieces to strangers I encounter on trips. I want to remind people there’s a bit of home everywhere we go.
I stretched my legs and arms and then began my long journey, in search of the Kiso River. Around me, there was a never-ending sight of greenery. Tree branches spilling forward, a kind gesture of welcoming me with their heads thick with an abundance of leaves. I smiled to myself. He was right. Eien. I followed the wooden steps laid out in front of me and, step by step, I moved closer towards my desired destination. Above me, I saw the sun filtering through the sturdy arms against the gentle blue sky. I closed my eyes and saw a kaleidoscope of various shapes and colors. In the near distance, I saw many families and couples hiking as well. They were all dressed in simple attire, the men carrying backpacks as the women tend to the children.
As I made it to the halfway point, I sat myself on a bench provided and took out my lunch and water bottle. I packed kuri-kinton (chestnut dumplings), a common street food I purchased right before I got into the taxi. The street vender informed me that I came at a right time, for they are only offered during autumn. I took a bite out of it and immediately became fascinated by the crunchy sweetness. One by one, I finished each piece with delight and drank half of my water bottle. I disposed my garbage in a nearby trashcan and continued with my hike.
With more energy, the hike went a lot faster. Before I knew it, I began to hear the flow of water. I walked for a few more minutes, and there, in front of me, was the Kiso River. There were many people surrounding the area, taking photos and enjoying the view. I made my way closer to the water, looking at the buildings on the distant, opposite side. The view reminded me of a miniature puzzle itself. I took a few photos with my Polaroid camera and stood there, enjoying the calm spread of water. I wonder if you are here with me right this very second. I took out a puzzle piece. It was yellow, a color that reminded me of your soul. I waited until people around me dispersed and then eventually threw it in the river. A memory. Just for you.
I went back to Kiso Town and visited the Tokuonji Temple. Immediately, I found myself surrounded by Sakura trees. The wind softly blew and I was tickled by the soft pink petals as they kissed my cheeks and finally, settled near my feet. I picked a few of them up and placed them in between the pages of my journal. A souvenir. I sat beside one of the trees, the one that seemed to match my personality the most – slightly clumsy-looking yet full of motivation to grow. A little girl in a white sweater and a navy blue skirt was blowing bubbles near me. Her mother was a few feet away from her, talking on the phone over what seemed like a light-hearted discussion from the laughter that escaped her mouth.
I turned to the page of my journal that had the Sakura petals and began to write.
Hiking just to say goodbye to your old self,
A kaleidoscope of new shapes and colors within me burst,
I turn towards the direction where the Sakura blow,
Take me closer to where home is.
“What are you writing?” asked the little girl. She came over and examined the words I had just scribbled down. Her curious cheerfulness soon became overtaken by a puzzling look on her face. “I don’t understand!”
I wrote a Japanese translation of it and handed it to her.
“You will one day,” I said to her with a smile.
The mother got off her phone and walked towards us, apologizing to me if her daughter caused any trouble. I simply shook my head and reassured her that there was nothing to worry about. “Ah!” I said, as I quickly rummaged through my backpack for my camera. I asked the mother to take a picture of me walking through the path of cherry blossoms, which she agreed to happily do so.
As I made my way back to her, she said, “It turned out well!” She handed me the photo along with the camera. I stared down at the picture in my hand. Just as I suspected, I saw someone a little more ready to take on the world.
I took out a couple of jigsaw pieces and handed them to her. “One for your daughter. Arrigato.” I smiled at her, doing a quick bow with my head. She looked down at the puzzle pieces as her daughter took one of them with enthusiasm. She smiled back knowingly and bowed her head in return.
I placed the photograph on top of the Sakura petals in my journal, and made my way down the road, watching the sun bob its head for the final time above the surface before diving down.
by Catherine Huang
Currently, I am a senior at the University of Rhode Island majoring in English Literature and minoring in Education. My dream is to become an author of young adult fiction, but I hope to one day enter the editorial field so I can help many other artists at heart publish their important words as well! I am heavily inspired by writers Haruki Murakmi and Banana Yoshimoto. I also very much consider myself a surrealist. Currently, I'm working on a novel while trying to manage living life as optimistically as possible.