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Taronyasbub
35.65450, 139.74539
Minato Ward, Zojoji Temple. Behind the temple grounds — first established in Meitoku 4, over six hundred years ago — inorganic straight lines stand in rows. On the scale of the universe, human endeavor amounts to no more than a single layer of skin. Upon that thin membrane, centuries of prayer and decades of concrete are stained by the same sunset. This temple has burned to the ground many times. Great fires, arson, air raids. Each time, the temple was rebuilt. What has endured for centuries is not the building. It is the will to keep rebuilding. In the corner of the frame, a man holds up his smartphone. His dog, oblivious, buries its nose in the grass at his feet. Those who pressed their palms together here in ages past. Those who raised the first pillar from the ashes. Those who capture this moment on a screen. Those who simply follow the scent of grass. Within a single space, countless traces and consciousnesses intersect. Time is nothing more than a boundary drawn by humans. In this spacetime, everything exists simultaneously. True solitude does not exist.
