10/11/2026
In Japanese folklore “hotaru” are viewed as the wandering souls of fallen soldiers or ancestors.
✨There was no outward sign of the magic this place held. Spaces can hold more than the life around it. A time capsule of moments beginning and ending. Here the trees swayed different, the meadow sang in the wind and as the light faded, something shifted as the smell of sun-warmed plants conducted the various stages of life and death. They emerged as if summoned - a nostalgic blur of light. Each sense audience to a quiet, private spectacle. The tiny deaths of the fireflies took a piece of her each time. In awe of versions of herself left behind. Time turns everything into a graveyard. But in even the briefest of sparks is the story of the sun. All she needed was to say goodbye.✨
There’s a line between witness and participant. The longer you stay and observe the more you become part of the moment.
