blue

blue, originally uploaded by vibromama.

“Aoi da, Aoi da.” “It’s blue. It’s blue.” Looking down into the sea from the ferry, a father repeats this to his 9-year-old son at least five times. The son does not seem particularly interested. The second and third week of August is Obon season, when tens of millions of people return to their ‘furusato’ (hometown) to visit their aging parents and pay their respects at the family graves. For this man, seeing the blue sea fills him with nostalgia, for the sea in his new home of Yokohama or Nagoya resembles more the miso soup he eats every morning for breakfast. He knows that his living environment is polluted, though as a modern urbanite he has probably convinced himself this is a price we pay for progress. Here, looking straight down into the water, he sees in nature the kind of brilliant blue otherwise seen only on a blank computer screen. His yearly return to his hometown has also come to symbolize a fleeting return to things purer and cleaner, the way they used to be. All this seems lost on his son, who has grown up in the city and through lack of example or appropriate education, does not understand the finer points of a clean living environment. Unnoticed by the man or his son, a sea turtle floats up, takes a few breaths, and dives again, looking small from the top deck of the ferry.