In these idle hours, as twilight descends, I find myself before the inkstone, letting my brush wander across the page, capturing the fleeting thoughts that drift through my mind. How curious and foolish this endeavor may seem.
The memory of that seafood bowl I tasted during my journey to the northern lands of Hokkaido still lingers on my tongue, refusing to fade. The fresh taste of the fish, the brilliance of the colorful bounty from the sea – how might I bring these before my eyes once more? My heart wavers in contemplation.
Together with my dear friend Sayaka, I have attempted time and again to recreate this image, yet our efforts fall far short of the splendor I hold in my memory. The large slices of tuna, the glossy salmon, the translucent squid, the succulent shrimp, the golden sea urchin, and the heaping mound of salmon roe – to capture all these in a single bowl, our skill yet proves insufficient.
Upon reflection, how embarrassing it is that at my age, I should be so blinded by gluttony. And yet, if I consider this attempt as but one step on the arduous path to mastering the way of the prompt engineer, my heart finds some small comfort.
Though I should be content with merely feasting my eyes, the stirring in my heart that still yearns for the real thing is truly the way of this world. As the sage Kenko counseled, “Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless?” Indeed, even in these imperfect images, there is a certain charm to be appreciated.
And so, as the days pass, the longing for that seafood bowl hidden in the depths of my heart only grows stronger. Yet it is this very longing that becomes the nourishment to hone my skills, and will one day become the power to bring forth the ideal seafood bowl I envision in my mind.
As time flows on and techniques advance, I secretly yet fervently hope for the day when I can perfectly express in an image the seafood bowl I picture in my heart. With this wish, I set down my brush.