石田ヤマト 手紙 -Letter-
“At the seaside during winter, the sun shines dimly in the afternoon.
A cold wind prickles at my skin like needles.
There is no sign of people when I look left and right,
only driftwood and trash lying on the sandy beach.
The steady rhythm of the waves goes on uninterrupted.
I, am standing before the sea…”