5/17 JP

I'm in a town called Linköping. The pronunciation in Japanese might be closer to "Lin-shay-ping". It's not very big, but it's a beautiful town. A little ways from the center of town, there's an outdoor museum called Gamla Linköping¹. Well, I call it a museum, but you shouldn't take that to mean that it has any big, overdone buildings. In the language here, "Gamla" means "old" - the town streets and way of life from the Linköping of long ago have been preserved there as they were. If I tried to sum it up, it's like just one part of the city has gone back to the 19th century. If you ever visit this country, you should come by here. It's a lovely town.

About the song I wrote a few days ago: When I say Paris Green, I mean basically "this is emerald green". I'm hopelessly mediocre when it comes to songs, so I've found that if I don't establish a theme first, I can hardly write anything. Paris Green is a poisonous synthetic pigment. Everything written in that song is about tears. Tears as such are absolutely something close to poison. Tears born from pain, tears born from joy, tears of frustration, tears of sympathy, tears of passion, tears of regret - each of them is something poisonous. The fact that they serve a protective function helping the body relieve stress, or the fact that they regulate emotions, none of that matters. If you ask me, they're escapism. They're weakness. If feelings are weakness, then tears are a numbing agent that justifies that weakness. Tears that just serve to deceive one's heart and soul are nothing more than self-absorption. They're a poison, paralyzing one's personality. Back then, I hadn't come to understand that yet. If someone were to ridicule your memories, your art, you ought to just send them flying right then and there, if you can. Crying while you hide behind your "self-esteem" is a true poison, one that will bring you no solace. I really, truly think so.