I can see the corner of his eye is swollen, about the size of the end of an earpick. Thin hands. I wonder if this is why he kept his sleeve down all the way to the fingertips, even as he placed down go stones, hiding his hands. So as not to be seen by the opposing person, he took care to set up a brushwood fence, and then even amidst this, the summer grass grows thick. It’s not that I had something in particular to do, nor did I have time to kill, but that was just the way it was going, so I simply watched it blankly from over here.
Collection of the Artist