雲霧中的富士山山 Mount Fuji in the Clouds and Mist

十年後的日本，期待見到富士山，搭乘從大阪往三島的新幹線，再轉乘客運抵達河口湖站。雨中灰濛的霧氣，膠著著未知的情緒，與這一個半月的日本駐村生活交織在一起。這真實的每一刻，卻又如雨霧般虛幻，讓人看不見真相。在我的記憶與現實之間，心思敏銳又脆弱；那是試圖重建希望的遠方，與此刻落下的雨滴交錯。如同毛筆在紙上蘊含氣韻的那一捺 —— 富士，我還能見到你嗎？ 第二天的早晨，烏雲依舊，風雨落下。遠方的天空仍不見富士的身影，那種失落的心境，就像在大阪人群中顯得寂寞的身影吧。直到午後雲霧散去，富士山如老朋友驀然出現在眼前。是你，我的想像；是你，我的記憶。我總是在學習一種艱難的功課：「看破與放下」，這四個字掛在最顯眼的地方，提醒我如何做人。而富士的身影彷彿在說：我一直都在這裡；烏雲與雨只是一層遮蓋的倒影，而我始終未曾離開。 Japan, ten years later. Longing to catch a glimpse of Mount Fuji, I took the Shinkansen from Osaka to Mishima, then transferred to a bus to reach Kawaguchiko Station. The gray mist hanging in the rain clung to a sense of emotional uncertainty, intertwining with my experiences over the past month and a half during this artist residency in Japan. Though deeply real, each passing moment felt as illusory as the rainy fog, obscuring the ultimate truth. Caught between memory and reality, my mind felt both acutely sensitive and fragile; it was a distant place where I sought to rebuild hope, now crisscrossed by the falling raindrops of the present. Like the final, resonant press of a calligraphy brush capturing vital energy on paper—Fuji, will I see you again? On the morning of the second day, dark clouds lingered and the wind and rain continued to fall. Mount Fuji was still nowhere to be seen in the distant sky. That sense of profound loss felt much like being a solitary, lonely figure drifting through the bustling crowds of Osaka. It wasn't until the afternoon, when the clouds and mist finally dispersed, that Mount Fuji suddenly emerged before my eyes like an old friend. There you were, my imagination; there you were, my memory. I am always trying to learn a difficult life lesson: "to see through and to let go." These words hang in the most prominent place, reminding me of how to carry myself. And the steady silhouette of Mount Fuji seemed to whisper: I have been here all along; the dark clouds and rain are merely a passing shadow of coverage, but I have never truly left.