It’s like the short stories that Yukio Mishima would publish on the front page of a monthly magazine. In the damaged and bleached film images and intermittent sounds, I hear the voice of the sea brushing against the wounds of a youth and a nation. What I need most at this moment is for you to draw me down.
It’s like the short stories that Yukio Mishima would publish on the front page of a monthly magazine. In the damaged and bleached film images and intermittent sounds, I hear the voice of the sea brushing against the wounds of a youth and a nation. What I need most at this moment is for you to draw me down.