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For a long time now, one of my themes in self-study has been to constantly reflect on fish—those supple, cool creatures that glide through the water, covered in hard jewels, embodying philosophy itself.
Fishing isn’t a hobby of mine, and I remember how, long ago, in an aquarium recreating the cobalt blue of a fish my partner used to keep, I would cautiously feed the beautiful fish—which weren’t part of my family—only after asking permission each time, as if they weren’t really mine.
When I think of fish, aside from the beautiful ingredients lined up on the dining table or in a slanted display case stacked with silver trays, I always picture the shadow of a fish in a small, rectangular stone pond that no one knows about at noon in summer—a fish that swims briefly through the deep greenery as if hiding, its body a supple crimson, before coming to rest in the shadow cast by the overhanging leaves of the shrubs.
Since I’ve written about this many times—both in the Sunday edition and in other posts—I imagine my readers must wonder: Why does Enamel’s heart always contain this stone water basin, and why do tiny fish continue to live there forever?
In fact, nearby there is an unused outdoor greenhouse covered in baked glass. Amid the small dried flower petals scattered like fallen stars, plants—such as aloe vera and others I’ve surely seen before but will never truly understand, nor feel the need to look up—stand nonchalantly in three tiers, embodying a nihilistic essence that exists only within me.
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| Fashionable-Night-Out Photo by Natuty from Studio.Stock |
Inside my heart, there’s a bench in a quiet artificial garden where crimson fish swim; nearby is a glass greenhouse, and across the railroad tracks where kirin grass sways, there’s a three-story building—whose windows have fallen out and whose name I don’t even know—still standing, surrounded by deep peach-colored hibiscus in full bloom.
This scene is one that actually existed in my daily life for a time.
Funnily enough, as I stared intently at those overflowing deep peach-colored flowers, I thought, “Since I’ll never forget this scene for the rest of my life, I have to memorize it so I can describe it in one go using an easy-to-remember adjective,” and day after day, I would gaze at it intently, refining the words in my mind.
I heard that BTS’s V has been chosen as the face of Champion’s campaign for this season.
The tagline is “SPOKEN LIKE A TRUE.”
At first, I translated it literally and interpreted it as a phrase urging people to speak as if it were fact.
It means, “You’re so fake (you’re not real).”
“Not real” is a phrase from my “Silent Generation”—it conveys the sense of a bunch of childish, naive people.
I just checked Instagram, and it seems the official translation is “The real thing doesn’t speak.”
Is silence a sign of authenticity, then?
It’s just a coincidence, but actually, the “Silent Generation” used to get absolutely torn apart—told that there are no real people in your generation, that you’re all just copies with zero originality—so this made me a little happy.
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| Portrait-of-a-Stylish-Young-Woman Photo by Natuty from Studio.Stock |
I’m sorry to Chisato Oe and Epic Sony, her label at the time, but thanks to that song, I was able to spend my school days without the preconception that sensitivity and emotional depth were traits exclusive to women.
This song was included on the album *Minor*, which I had pre-ordered.
When it arrived, it came with this mysterious poster.
The black-and-white photo was unusual, and the fact that only part of his face was visible—everything about it—was a novelty to me before I even started middle school. I took it home, and printed on the poster in a small, meticulous, and somewhat neurotic-looking font were the words:
“You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. (You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs).”
Taken literally, the message is, “Nothing will happen unless you get started,” but
I think this is probably Chisato Oe being lectured.
Age-wise, Chisato Oe is from the generation just above mine, but it also seems like he’s describing a way to spend summer vacation during adolescence—one with a bit of spice—by just letting things slide.
Back then, my thoughts came to a halt at the word “omelet…?” It wasn’t until much, much later that I actually made a real omelet—using a small cast-iron skillet, heavy cream, two knobs of butter, and four white eggs.
“When it comes to things you don’t understand, and no one will die from it, you can take as much time as you need to figure them out until you’re satisfied.”
This is the lesson I learned from this personal episode—one that allowed me to finally cast aside the eggshells.
Well then, I hope you have a wonderful Sunday, thinking about autumn-inspired summer outfits as the season turns.
This album is a representative work from Chisato Oe’s early career, often referred to as the “Male Yuming” era.
In fact, he had already released two albums prior to this—*WAKUWAKU* and, later, *Pleasure*—and as a rising star in the Japanese pop music scene, Chisato Oe was already attracting significant attention, with special interviews airing on FM radio every time he released a new album.
The reason for this was that he made his debut after winning second place in the Yamaha Pop Contest—commonly known as “Popcon”—which was considered the gateway to success for singer-songwriters at the time.
That song was “Nagisa no ONE - SIDE SUMMER,” included on this album. Remarkably, Chisato Oe wrote the lyrics, composed the music, and arranged the track entirely on his own while still a college student; he later stated that almost no changes were made to the original version. On the professional release, Nobuyuki Shimizu is credited solely for the arrangement.
His bandmates from his college days reportedly listened to this song and were stunned, realizing that Oe was completely different from them.
Since he has since shifted to jazz, I think it would be better to categorize his pop and jazz eras separately on streaming platforms like Apple Music and Spotify.
Enamel
This is O.
For most people, “Rain” is Chisato Oe’s most famous song.
However, this album, *Minor*, sent shockwaves through the music world at the time.
It was because his sensitivity and genius—which he likely had fully expressed in just two albums—were revealed on an even broader and grander scale.
The second track, “Midwinter Landrie,” is a song that shaped Enamel’s entire life. She rarely speaks about this song.
It’s such a remarkable piece that it was later adapted into a Japanese film.
Please give it a listen and be astounded by Chisato Oe’s talent.
He was only 24 at the time. It’s astonishing.
Prof. O,






