The precincts of a shrine surrounded by cedar trees. Every day, a set of words emerges brilliantly among the dark trees in the dusk. Those words emerge unexpectedly at the corner of the precincts. Though at first sight it reminds us of a large votive tablet with shining letters, the words are not prayers to the gods, but ambiguous signals of poetries in someone’s heart which are evoked and directly connected to the place. No one knows why such a thing would appear there. It’s just a fleeting light that flares up, emits phosphorescence like a foxfire for a while, and then disappears sucked into the darkness.