It was five years ago. My mom died from cancer in my hometown. Shortly thereafter, I broke up with my former wife. Things that I had thought would last forever ended all too soon. During the time my Mom was in the hospital, and also afterward, I continued to take photographs, although I wasn't sure what purpose it would serve. While traveling back and forth from Tokyo to Fukuoka I almost felt as if I had to continue taking photographs.
My photographs escaped from the moment that they had captured to someplace other than reality. Well, photographs can't show the feelings of the photographer at the moment he took them. If it appears that a photograph has captured emotion, that photograph is deceiving you. Even so, when I look back at the photographs that I myself took, their deception is imprinted in my memory. But that is fine. As I continue to take photographs one after another, I very gradually rewrite my memories as I wish. And it is only in that way that I can move forward. Well, I want to believe that I can move forward.