That that rainbow's made of countless dead people when I die what color
Midway through production of a certain action film, the lead actor suddenly passed away, and they continued filming with his younger brother substituting for him, rowing steadily on to completion. The screenplay was rewritten, and as though in mourning for the man, the tone of the second half shifted. Though we unsuspectingly go on, thoroughly convinced that we are living our own lives, without realizing it, we may be acting as substitutes for someone who has died. That may be why we are so frequently shown paintings by an artist born one year from the day big brother died. Considering he didn’t live on, his voice is so grand, yet the important things are narrated in such a tiny voice. Old used books somewhat scare me. The gaze of the dead falls, covering everything like a layer of dust. It’s like that story, if you urinate on a worm, it swells up. Eyes are wounds. Or gun barrels.
––––Translation by Jordan A.Y. Smith