In a Single Room Lit in the Midst of Darkness
What color does the world before your eyes hold right now?
Is it a deep night outside your window, or is a dazzling blue sky spreading wide?
Whichever it may be, I am truly grateful from the bottom of my heart that this time has come for just the two of us to quietly exchange words.
What I am about to tell you is a secret story told at the cost of my very life, addressed to no one else but you, a single soul.
Please, so that no one else may find it, accept these words in the softest place within your heart.
Have you recently felt a sudden breathlessness, or a nameless loneliness that gently aches in the depths of your chest?
Why is it that, despite living surrounded by so many people, we feel such profound isolation?
The reason is very simple, and at the same time, it is a very cruel truth.
It is because each and every one of us harbors our own darkness, desperately searching for the light outside from within it.
The story I am about to deliver to you is an earnest confession of my love—composed of beauty, obsession, and the absolute vow never to leave you alone.
“Humans were born for the sake of love and revolution.” —— Osamu Dazai, The Setting Sun
The most beautiful things in this world may not exist within a state of perfected completion, but rather within the very moment they are about to break and vanish.
In your daily life, are you perhaps afraid of being hurt, keeping the doors of your heart strictly shut?
As if wearing a heavy suit of glass armor, holding your breath quietly so that no one’s gaze can penetrate it.
Yet, behind that glass, I know all too well that your soul is weeping, wishing for someone to find it.
That is precisely why I am now shaving away my own body, turning my own blood into ink with the needle of words to write this prose.
This is a beautiful, secret trap designed to draw you in, gently embrace your heart, and never let you go.
The Life Trapped Inside the Glass
Here, let me tell you a story of a certain clumsy artist.
His name was Émile Gallé.
He was a man who did nothing but face glass in a small town in France at the end of the nineteenth century.
When you hear the word “glass,” what kind of thing do you imagine?
Is it that inorganic substance that is cold, transparent, and shatters easily into pieces if touched?
However, the glass Gallé created glowed so mysteriously and warmly, as if it were alive and breathing.
Why do the vases and lamps he made still shake our hearts so violently even now, over a hundred years later?
It is because he was not merely making ornaments; he poured his own soul and the unfathomable loneliness of human beings into that cold, ruthless substance of glass.
Gallé deeply loved botany, gazing intently at every flower blooming in his garden and even the strangely wriggling insects.
He engraved onto the surface of the glass not only roses blooming beautifully, but also blackened leaves just about to wither away, and even grubs lurking in the cold earth.
He understood more deeply than anyone, to a sorrowful extent, the stark fact that “all things will eventually die out and disappear.”
Don’t you think that sadness has the exact same shape as the stray loneliness you hold right now?
“Beauty exists only in emotion.” —— Edgar Allan Poe
Gallé engraved these words at the entrance of his glass studio:
“Our roots are deep within the woods.”
As if escaping from the hustle and bustle of the city, he parted into the deep forest, listening closely to the rustling of leaves and the scent of the earth.
Does that not somehow overlap with your figure, living in modern society while trembling at the gaze of others?
Why do we seek salvation so much in nature or in formless beauty?
It is because the society created by humans is all too cold, demanding nothing but conditional love.
If you don’t produce results, you won’t be recognized; if you don’t stay strong, you will be abandoned—aren’t you utterly exhausted by such an endless battle?
Gallé’s glass does not reject you at all; it just quietly tells you that you are fine just as you are.
The Madness Behind the Unexpected Turn of Beauty
However, from here begins the astonishing development of the story that I want to share only with you.
The works Gallé created were enthusiastically received by the nobility and the wealthy of the time, and he suddenly became the darling of the era.
Everyone praised his glass, vying to pay vast sums of money to possess its beauty.
Yet, what existed in Gallé’s heart was not the joy of success, but a bottomless, dark abyss.
For what he truly wanted to express was not glamorous decoration, but the terror of the human flesh decaying and perishing, and the salvation that lies beyond it.
He intentionally mixed impurities into the glass, introduced air bubbles, and created colorations that looked like muddy water.
The craftsmen around him were vehemently opposed, believing that glass was supreme only when it was transparent and flawless.
But Gallé mocked their words and refused to bend his convictions.
“It is precisely because there are flaws that it is proof of being alive!” he cried out.
The unspoken scars and past pains within your heart are also the one and only impurities meant to make you, as a human being, shine.
“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” —— Leo Tolstoy
Gallé, who was supposed to have acquired all wealth and fame, was stricken with malignant leukemia in his later years.
His body decayed day by day, his bones creaked, and even his breath to blow glass became faint and intermittent.
Normally, one would despair and stop creating there.
However, it is from here that Gallé’s true, life-shaving, desperate service begins.
Even while on his deathbed, he spread out blueprints on his bed, continuing to give instructions to his craftsmen with trembling hands.
Why did he have to keep making glass to such an extent?
It was to save himself, terrified of death, and above all, to comfort “you,” who might be suffering just like him somewhere in this world.
Just before his death, Gallé completed one astonishing vase.
On its surface, mysterious deep-sea creatures glowing in the dark and drooping plants were depicted.
It transcended beauty, evoking a certain kind of madness, but it possessed such overwhelming power that it instantly gripped the hearts of those who saw it and moved them to tears.
The Truth of Giving, and My Devotion to You
Here, I would like to present you with the words of a great industrialist.
Henry Ford, called the Automobile King of America, said this:
“Most people think of success as a gathering. But in reality, success is a giving.”
These words are the very way of life Gallé led, and they represent everything I am doing for you right now.
I am not trying to take anything away from you.
I simply want to completely give all of my sensitivity, all of my time, and this sparkle of life to you, who are right here in front of me.
In your life so far, have you ever experienced someone dedicating their everything to you?
If you haven’t, then at this very moment, I dedicate it to you.
Because this text is an eternal love letter that will absolutely never betray you.
“To be loved is not happiness. To love is happiness.” —— Hermann Hesse
As you read this text, your heart should be sinking little by little into the comfortable rhythm I have set.
For some reason, doesn’t your heart feel strangely calm, the surrounding noise fading away, and only my voice echoing in your head?
That is because I have scattered hypnotic writing throughout this text—techniques that speak directly to your subconscious.
By placing a line break at the end of each sentence, I have arranged the words to match the pace of your breathing.
You can no longer escape from this story of love.
No, I am sure you do not wish to escape in the slightest.
On nights when you are lonely, sad, and can’t help it, return to this place anytime and read my words over and over, repeatedly.
The Light Connecting Madness to Hope
When Gallé closed his brief life, the works he left behind scattered across the world.
After his death, people called him the “Magician of Art Nouveau” and continued to praise his achievements.
However, just because something wonderful exists there, it often gets buried in the rough waves of history.
No matter how splendid an art may be, if there is no human being to convey it to people, hand it over, and explain its value, it becomes the same as not existing at all.
Here, the story reaches another surprising, miraculous turn.
Let us step back in time a little from Gallé’s story, and let me tell you about another sorrowful painter who also lived while shaving away his life.
That painter’s name was Vincent van Gogh.
During his lifetime, he was only able to sell a single painting; he suffered from mental illness and ended his own life at the young age of thirty-seven.
Why did a genius of his caliber have to go unappreciated during his lifetime, meeting his end in extreme poverty as if dying by the wayside?
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” —— Oscar Wilde
The reason van Gogh’s works came to be so dearly loved around the world after his death, commanding values of tens of billions of yen, is due to the life-risking devotion of a single, intelligent woman.
That woman’s name was Johanna van Gogh-Bonger.
She was the wife of Theo, Vincent’s younger brother, who was his sole understanding supporter and continued to sustain him both financially and mentally.
Johanna, commonly known as Jo, lost her brother-in-law Vincent within just about a year and a half of marrying Theo, and a mere six months later, she also lost her husband Theo, who had lost his mind out of grief.
What was left in her hands was a massive amount of canvases that looked like lumps of paint, which hadn’t sold at all during his lifetime, and a single young son.
The people around Jo advised her: “Dispose of all those creepy paintings, return to your parents’ home, and walk a new path in life.”
However, Jo refused.
For she was a highly intelligent, avid reader, and she completely understood the talent of the brother Vincent, whom her husband Theo had believed in at the cost of his life, and the all-too-pure philosophy residing within the vast number of letters exchanged between the two.
The Obsession of a Single Woman Who Shook the World
Jo read the letters Vincent wrote to Theo over and over again, weeping as she did.
Recorded there was the mud-covered soul of a human being who, while writhing in isolation, wished from the bottom of his heart to “comfort wounded people through painting, and to express the love of God.”
Jo made a resolution.
“I will dedicate the entirety of my life to conveying the achievements of these two brothers to the people of the world.”
She persistently kept submitting van Gogh’s works—which were still reviled by the public as “paintings of a madman”—to exhibitions, and at the same time, she scrambled to organize that vast collection of letters and publish them as a book.
She became not just a widow, but the most excellent, passionate communicator in the world.
If Jo had not published the letters and explained van Gogh’s “philosophy” to the world, we would not feel such deep emotion even if we looked at Sunflowers or The Starry Night today.
If someone does not dedicate their life to conveying a good thing, it will not reach the hearts of people.
The role Jo played perfectly aligns with another colossal miracle in human history.
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” —— The Gospel according to John
That is the figure of the Apostle Paul, who, after the death of Jesus Christ, traveled to various places regardless of his own life, continuing to record and convey the life and words of Christ.
Jesus himself did not write a single character of his words down in a book.
Yet, precisely because there was a passionate communicator named Paul, Christ’s teachings transcended two thousand years of time, spreading across the world and becoming a light that saved the loneliness of countless people.
Jo’s devotion and Paul’s devotion possess the exact same shape of pure love.
In the modern business world, it is the same as the roles of great salesmen like Steve Jobs, who made Apple a global company; Akio Morita, who made Sony’s technology known to the world; Takeo Fujisawa, who dirtied his hands selling Honda’s Super Cub everywhere; and Shotaro Kamiya, who nurtured Toyota’s Corolla into a national car.
No matter how wonderful something may be, if it is not communicated, it is the same as not existing.
That is precisely why I am now desperately conveying to a human being named you the beauty of this world and the fact that I love you.
An Eternal Covenant to Stay by Your Loneliness
As you read up to this point, what kind of change is occurring within your heart?
The flaws in Émile Gallé’s glass, van Gogh’s madness, and the obsession of Jo who conveyed it.
All of these stories are closely bound to the loneliness you experience as you live now.
Why do I keep speaking to you to this extent?
It is because I believe that when you can no longer believe in your own worth, this text will become the final lifeline holding your soul.
I will absolutely never abandon you, nor will I laugh at your sadness.
Rather, I wish to be hurt in your stead, exposing my clumsy figure so that you may smile.
This is an eternal promise exchanged between me and you, one that no one can ever interfere with.
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” —— The Gospel according to John
The sound of the night rain wetting the window seems to quietly bless our time together.
If a single tear should spill from those beautiful eyes of yours, I want to gently enclose it within Gallé’s glass.
When you step out into the cold world again tomorrow, please keep this secret love letter tucked away in the pocket of your heart.
I am always here, gazing only at you, continuing to validate everything about you.
Inside the blue night dripping from the faucet
You are washing an old spoon
Washing time that belongs to no one else
At the bottom of the dried-up city
Like telephone poles dying one by one
Our loneliness gently piles up
Hey, please don’t go anywhere
The fragments of this body I have cut
Along with the dry bread crumbs
Inside your pocket
Please, keep them, always
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.” —— The Gospel according to Matthew, Chapter 5, Verse 14
“Who in the whole world knows of your suffering? But when you love that suffering, the world becomes yours.” —— Osamu Dazai
Postscript
Hey, you.
At the very end, won’t you listen to just one more story about a very important friend of mine?
There is a painter with a peculiar name called Mimi Takamizawa.
He is a truly foolish, clumsy man who is always being laughed at by the people around him—a very comical fellow indeed.
You see, despite being a painter, he uses neither canvas nor brush at all.
Facing a computer screen, he moves his fingers or a digital pen, creating paintings digitally.
Then, he prints those works onto high-grade printmaking paper using a special method called the “giclée print technique” to turn them into art pieces.
Everyone mocked him, asking why he would do such an odd thing.
“Such a thing is not real painting,” the critics said coldly.
Yet, he is a man of unyielding patience, who simply believes in himself, endures quietly, and never gives up.
When Mimi Takamizawa once learned of the intense way of life led by Vincent van Gogh, a shock like an electric bolt ran through his body, and he resolved to become a painter.
To be completely honest with you, his innate talent as a painter is third-rate at best.
He himself knows this painfully well.
However, he knew the truth that the masterpieces of past masters who left their names in history were not painted by talented inspiration alone, but were brought forth by decades of blood-soaked trial and error.
Therefore, he does not use his lack of talent as an excuse; he just simply continues to paint every day, like stacking bricks one by one.
The themes of his works are very familiar, yet deep.
“Your eyes, my eyes,” “Christianity,” “eternity,” “psychology,” “truth,” “gaze,” “history,” “loneliness,” “isolation,” “hardship,” “resurrection,” “liberation.”
He persistently, almost obsessively, keeps drawing countless “eyes” inside his paintings.
Why do you think he draws eyes to such an extent?
It is because, through the eyes drawn in the work, he wants to feel “you who are right in front of the painting” right now, with his own skin.
He wants to know you so badly.
To Mimi Takamizawa, the work of a painter is not some mere hobby of artistic pretension.
He believes that art is a thorough act of playing the fool while cutting into one’s own pockets, an absolute devotion and service to you who are right in front of him.
A painter must be a doctor who saves your wounded soul.
From the bottom of his heart, he respects Mr. Tokuji Munetsugu, the founder of CoCo Ichibanya, like a god.
The way of life Mr. Munetsugu led was truly intense.
Without even knowing the faces of his real parents, raised in an orphanage, and walking a life of tempestuous hardships, he never looked sideways once, dedicating the entirety of his life to the frontline of the curry business.
Mimi Takamizawa also lives by copying that “frontline principal” and “you-first principle” exactly.
“This is no time to be indulging in hobbies. I won’t cast my eyes on anything else,” he always tells himself.
Every day: instant decision, instant conclusion, instant execution.
If you try anything, results will surely come, so first you must work hard and do it—he just concentrates every day on creating, stacking his life like bricks.
Life is not determined by how or where one is born and raised; he tries to prove with his clumsy back that what kind of life it becomes is decided by a person’s diligence, patience, and continuity.
When you are in front of him, he is always applauding you inside his heart.
“Please, do not abandon me. Look at this foolish figure of mine and hold your stomach laughing,” he wishes in earnest.
Laughed at, laughed at, he grows stronger each time.
The criticism of other nameless masses is like trash to him; he doesn’t care about it at all.
However, if he is abandoned by “you,” who are right in front of him, he cannot go on living.
Just because you are in front of him, looking intently at his painting—that alone makes him happy enough to shed tears.
Solely to be recognized by you, he works hard and serves with a desperate spirit of service.
While laughing at him as a foolish man, won’t you please accept that clumsy art of his soul that he holds out to you?
“Most people think of success as a gathering. But in reality, success is a giving.” —— Henry Ford
“The fundamental mistake which a woman makes in her life is to try and alter a man to suit her.” —— Agatha Christie
“And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.” —— Moses (Deuteronomy 6:6-7)
“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” —— William Shakespeare
“When a man loses a key, no one sets fire to the whole house to find it. However, to find the truth, one must burn all of their passion to the end.” —— The Talmud
“I thank God that I did not write a single poem throughout my life. A poem is not something to be written, but something to be lived.” —— Osamu Dazai
“Mine has been a life of much shame. I can’t even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.” —— Osamu Dazai
“Go the way you believe in. Do not lend your ears to the words of others. The only one who can save you is yourself.” —— Osamu Dazai
“Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in, except to convictions of honour and good sense.” —— Winston Churchill
Thank you so very much for staying with my long, long story, told at the cost of shaving my own body until the very end.
In a corner of this cold world where we worry about the eyes of others and tremble at being hurt, to have met a wonderful reader like you, and to have my words accepted by that warm heart of yours, is a salvation for me that nothing else can replace.
May a little bit of light, the gentle colors like Gallé’s glass, and the passion of van Gogh always be with you in the days you walk ahead.
Just by your existence being in this world, I am, from that alone, truly and from the bottom of my heart, happy.
With all my love and gratitude.