A little behind schedule on my goal of posting here at least once a week. Life is busy, and honestly, I’ve never been great at following the social media rule of “keep posting, or people will forget about you.” After all, I’m fully aware of how insignificant my little blog might be in the grand scheme of things.

My goal is simply to live my experiences fully and to challenge myself to share pieces of them here—the parts I can manage to put into words, at least. Photography comes more naturally to me, but I also know how “ambiguous” pictures can sometimes feel. Interpreting an image is almost like trying to understand the life of an ancient civilization based on artifacts unearthed at an archaeological site.

Anyway, enough rambling.

Yesterday, I was rushing toward Kuhonbutsu, my steps quickened by the thought of the fleeting time I had to admire the beauty of one of my favorite spots for autumn foliage in Tokyo. Yet, as often happens, it’s in the midst of urgency that some of the best stories reveal themselves.

Along the main road—the one that stretches from the station to the temple—I saw him. A man, standing casually by the roadside. He wore simple sweatpants, and maybe he was waiting for someone. Or maybe he wasn’t waiting for anything in particular. It didn’t matter. To me, he was Jiyugaoka—a reflection of everyday life that hums softly in the background, unnoticed by many.

In that man, I saw everything I love about fleeting moments: a fragment of ordinary life that feels anything but ordinary, because it’s so real.

I said hello and asked for permission to take the shot. He seemed surprised by my interest in him, but he kindly agreed to my request.

Then, I was off again, back to where I was headed. Kuhonbutsu—one of those places that glows brighter than ever under the crisp autumn air.

But now I’ll stop with words and leave space to some images of this special place.