KOZO MIYOSHI
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Somewhere,sometime

2601 Nagano, 長野1985

「津々浦々 Somewhere, Sometime」
それは世紀が間もなく変わる頃のある夏の旅だった。私には幾度訪れてもいつも不思議な気分がわき起こり、撮影をさせられてしまう土地が幾つかあります。そんな不思議な場所の一つである、大きな砂丘のある街から、その旅は始まった。いくつもの入り江とそれと同じ数だけの小さな漁村を通り過ぎ、盛夏だというのに飛込み台とラッパスピーカーだけが目につく人気の無い浜を見下ろして。その先の漁師町では防波堤の脇では沖は時化ているのだろう、一人の漁師が漁協の帽子に鉢巻をして網の繕いをしている。国道から見られている気配を感じたのだろう、一瞬頭をもたげ眼をあわせられた。それはいつもとおなじに、時は過ぎ、景色は変わり、私は移動する。そしてそのことは俄にやってきた。バイパスが出来た為、海辺りを通る道は見捨てられていた。沖には二つの島影があり、小さな半島を回り込む峠にさしかかった時だった。一抱えとでは言いきれない程の束の夏花を竹籠に生けて背負って行く老婆に会えたのです。グラジオラスにポンポンダリヤ、矢車草に向日葵、カンナにエゾ菊、まだまだ底の方にもありました。底の方がつぼまる背負籠、木綿の絣の肩当て、頭には酒屋の手ぬぐいの姐さんかぶり、汗でしみる、糸瓜襟の白い半袖ブラウス、幾人かの子供を育て上げた遠くを見据える涼しげなまなこ。そして老婆との会話は、彼女は二回首を横に振っただけでした。「写真を撮らせてください」「町まで乗りませんか」

Somewhere, Sometime
It was summer; it was almost the turn of the century. There are those lands that cast a spell on me, forcing me to take their portraits. This was one of those places; a town that carried a giant dune and the trip began there. I drove by some inlets and passed through some more small fishing villages. It was the peak of the summer, and diving boards and bugle-looking speakers were in sight. But looking down along the beach, no person was to be found anywhere. Another fisherman's town further down must have a poor catch, a fisher with a headband underneath the Cooperative hat was mending a net. Did he notice the stare from the far away route, he held up his head and gave me a glance. These moments will never move on, but time passes and the views change. I will keep traveling. Then, the encounter came suddenly. Because of the newly constructed bypass, the coast drive had been abandoned. There were lees of two islands offshore. Just as when I came to a ridge that hugged a small peninsula, I came across an old woman, a bamboo basket stuffed with countless summer blossoms burdened on her shoulders: gladioli and pompon dahlias, bluebottles and sunflowers, cannas, china asters and many other more. There she was: with a funnel-shaped basket, splashed patterned shoulder pads, a kerchief wrapped around her head like a headdress, sweat-stained white blouse, those motherly yet liquid eyes fixing far sight. Our conversation began and ended as she shook her head once, and then once again. "May I take a picture?" "Won't you like a ride to the town?"