“The sounds of looms, the smoke of filature factory and the immense number of mulberry trees” The novelist Roka Tokutomi once wrote a prose poem about the scenery of Joshu. When the silkworms ate the mulberry leaves, the sound was just like rain. Someone in a distant place imagines a sound that cannot be heard now, and someone in this place remembers it. I wonder if the accumulation of these memories could ever become a big ocean in this place surrounded by mountains. I drew a new landscape with the soil of this place on a transparent glass plate given to me by the people of Nakanojo. I hope that the faint thread of memory, like smoke, will cross the mountains and slip through the sea to become a painting that connects us all.