おもい

1/2

One day at a forest park with a sunny blue sky and scattered clouds.

Some jogging, some walking with their dogs, some picnicking, children playing happily, and crows calling in the background.

1/5

These places aren’t landmarks—not even spots people would photograph. But these are places I visit every time I’m in Yokohama. I discovered them through two beautiful songs I heard in middle school—songs with music videos set in these exact places.

I remember the first time I visited, I put on my headphones, played both songs, and just stood there for some time—lost in nostalgia until the songs ended while realizing I was standing in beautiful places because of those songs—places I once only knew from a screen. I don’t have a word for what this is. People might call it manifestation—something I don’t believe in. Whatever it is… it is—at least to me—sentimental!

Now, every time I visit, even without playing the songs, I still find myself standing there and letting the memories find their way back.

It’s always sentimental Yamatecho.

I took this shot a few years ago at a pottery workshop in Tokoname, Aichi. The place was chaotic—scraps and random stuff everywhere—but this old signboard caught my eye. I found it stood out against the mess around it.

Come to think of it… something like this might happen quite often—a small thing catching the eye, the way that signboard did. But it’s very subjective. Like… what stands out to me might mean nothing to anyone else—and vice versa. Even what stands out to me, I might still miss it—could be because I’m moving quickly, my mind is elsewhere, or something like that.

If I slow down a little—giving myself a moment to be present—I might see things I usually miss. But of course, it’s not a guarantee—just a chance.

Perhaps that’s what noticing is—being present, unhurried, and open.