On a hillside overlooking the hamlet of Akaiwa, once known as the “Village of Silkworms,” I dug a series of earth hollows. One opens its arms like a butterfly, another curls up like a cocoon, and another stretches long like a larva. Visitors are invited to sink into the hole they choose—like face-in photo boards, but for the whole body.

Silkworms cannot fly, even after they emerge. Yet they flap their wings—loudly, with strength. We may not fly either, but perhaps we can still emerge. Cocoon yourself in the earth. Curl up, stretch out, flutter.

Alone, in pairs, or all together—shall we cocoon for a while?