I have roots—but no root.
Long ago, we didn’t even have a family name.
My ancestors believed our family name was “Amida.”
To be honest, I don’t know how or why our current name came to be.
I’m Japanese, but in high school, my friends jokingly called me by a Korean name.
It didn’t bother me much. What bothered me more was that I didn’t like my given name.
That’s why I’ve always wanted to name my child something I truly love: Haruhisa—a name that means “rite of spring.”
But we don’t have a child.
I was married.
But now, I am single.
Still, I had a wife. I love her. Her name is Hisako.
So I was married. And yet, I am single.
I walk and speak alone—because spirit is not the same as blood.
It’s not like being chained.
It’s more like a spider’s thread… or a line drawn by a jumping bird.
So, I must create a family.
To be honest, I’m still wondering what that really means.
So I write. I’ve been writing novels, critiques, poetry, and music since I was 14.
I love Taiwan—because a woman I loved lives there.
I love Korea—because a woman I loved lives there.
I love China, Thailand, Cuba, and France—because my old friends live there.
We met at LSU in Louisiana in 1990.
I love the U.S.—because my brother Lee and my teacher, whom I respect deeply, are there.
I love Myanmar, Vietnam, Switzerland, and Brazil—because they hold the homes, stories, and memories of those I care about.
And yes, I love Japan—because so much life is here.
I love space—because many beloved souls who have passed on are now there.
And anyway… I like hips. So I guess, I am a hippy.
Thank you very much for reading.