If I drive at top speed along this flat, straight road without a single house along it, I calm down all the more. The end of autumn on this street without people. Behind the visor my face was shrouded in green, but in spite of that the sparkle in my eyes looks straight ahead. Whether there are few vegetables, or no fish in the sea, it is not worth fearing. If I plant one grain of rice, it always yields three hundred grains in return. As I walk slowly along the brick road that is the only path that I can follow to get home for certain, I can’t stop this burst of laughter. The scenery that eventually dies is an unseen sound of cicadas. Even the toes are walking, wrapped in shadow in the midst of this carefree world bathed in brilliant sunlight. I don’t need to know whether I am eggplant or pumpkin. Surely at least once in this lifetime a butterfly will fly this way.