Think that I'll stay...sketch

Ama and the magical fox watch a spectacle of the sunset together. They sit on a rough boulder, somewhere at the top of the hill. The sky turns pink and orange. Ama's arms embrace her bare knees. The air is a little bit chilly.
"I'm afraid of time," she says.
"Why, Ama-chan?"
"It makes things disappear, like my parents, and all my lost little treasures..."
"It makes things appear too. You have found me."
"Oh, kitsune, won't you go away one day, without a word?"
"Think that I'll stay and I will, Ama-chan. I can jump on the waves of time back and forth." Ama beams at the sunset. The sunset beams back at her.
"I know, I trust you, we are one essence." Ama kisses gently the magical fox's head.

I'm real you are magical sketch

Two very similar shapes of eyes melt in the shared, intense glance. Ama and the magical fox sit in front of each other trying to guess what they are going to mean together and how they are going to play.

“Can we be friends? Aren’t we too different? You 'magical' and me 'real'?” Ama-chan asks looking at the wavy, fluffy tail, relaxed on the grass.

"I'm real, maybe you are magical?" The magical fox tilts its head gracefully.

Ama bursts out laughing.

“Differences will eventually get us closer to each other. We’ll never get bored to play together, wanting more and more…” The magical fox continues.

“Yes, more and more, never enough,” Ama nods.

We are all the infinite space

Ama sees Kaito with her mind’s eye when he scurries above snow-clad mountains through flickering islets of light.

“Was he really able to fly, Miko-san?” Little girl in-weaves a question.

“In a way, yes, Ama-chan. His agile mind could soar far and wide, wherever he wished for.”

“I’d love to be like him,” Ama puts herself into a dreamy mood. “But, grandma, sometimes I think my head is too heavy to soar, full of too many thoughts.” A blur of doubt shakes her little body.

Miko-san’s laughter trickles with a warm stream through the shell of Ama’s ear, straight to her heart. “It’s certainly not, my child.” Grandma ruffles anyway tousled hair on a little head. “Kaito thought of Aika as if she were his ‘limitless space’,” Miko-san continues.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Ama scratches her little head, trying to guess what grandma means.

“Museign Kuukan” Miko-san repeats, pointing at the sky that cracks with some tremulous streaks of light.

Ama gives her hands and feet the once-over. They seem to be so ‘finite’ to her. She grabs a tough nut to crack with her milk teeth.

“The matter we are all made of is mainly an empty, infinite space, Ama-chan. And now, close your eyes, nothing should distract you from listening,” Miko-san advises and gently places her palm on the slender bridge of Ama’s clavicle.

When 'Song of Love' can fly

“Miko-san?” Little girl combs with her fingers grandma's silky hair.

“Yes, Ama-chan?”

“Tell me the story of my mother’s name.”

“You’ve listened to it so many times.”

“You always add something new to the story, Miko-san,” Ama doesn’t give up.

“That’s true. It’s all about details which shed new light on the story.”

“Aika- ‘Song of Love’, that was her name, wasn’t it?” Ama inquires.

There rises an enigmatic smile on Miko’s face. Ama holds her breath while listening to the barely sprouts of words that are to grow out of grandma’s lips.

“That day the “Bamboo Grove Inn” was pervaded by the babble of voices and laughs. There had come many wanderers who treated themselves to a meal and a good chat. Your Dad, Kaito, was one of them…”

“Kaito…” Ama echos her grandma.

“’Kai’ means sea and ocean; ‘to’ means ‘soar and fly’” Grandma Miko-san spreads out her arms together with Ama. They get deeper into the story. "He was an inventor."

A rainy sketch

Ama looks out through the window’s glass, blurred with the rainy scribbles.

“I need to talk to you.” Ama addresses the infinity of rainy drops. ‘Can they listen?’ She wonders. “At least, we have one thing in common. I like to scribble too.”

“There is music in everything,” Little girl hears a familiar voice. “This music is the answer.”

A heart sketch

Ama reaches out to the magical fox’s full moon.

“Come closer” she pleads. “My arm is too short to touch you.”

“Your heart, Ama-chan can touch everything, no matter how far-away,” the magical fox replies.

Limitless 'Kuukan'

Ama sees Kioto with her mind’s eye, scurrying above snow-clad mountains, through flickering islets of light.

“Was he really able to fly, Miko-san?” Little girl in-wove a question.

“In a way, yes, Ama-chan. His agile mind could soar far and wide, wherever he wished for.”

“I would love to be like him,” Ama put herself into a dreamy mood. “But, grandma, my head is probably too heavy, to soar.” A blur of doubt shook her little body.

Miko-san’s laughter trickled with a warm stream through the shell of Ama’s ear, straight to her heart. “It’s certainly not, my child.” Grandma ruffled anyway tousled hair on little head. “Kioto thought of Aika as if she was his ‘limitless expanses’,” continued Miko-san.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Ama scratched her little head, trying to guess what grandma meant.

“Museign Kuukan” Miko-san repeated, pointing at the sky, cracking with some tremulous streaks of light or higher at the cosmic silence.

“But, How to imagine that, grandma?” Ama gave her hands and feet the once-over. They seemed to be so ‘finite’ to her. She grabbed a tough nut to crack with her milk teeth.

“Close your eyes, nothing can distract you,” Miko-san advised and gently placed her palm on the slender bridge of Ama’s clavicle.

“Nobody noticed when another wanderer stepped into the inn, tucked in a green, velvet cape…”

"Aika loved rain"

Ama’s little hands make a shape of a telescope. She stands on the gravel of the zen rock garden and gazes at the grey sky, heavy with thick, rainy clouds. They almost seem to reach out to little girl’s head filtering in her consciousness with their expanding massiveness.

“It’s surly going to rain, Ama-chan” Miko-san says. A graceful nod suggests, little girl shouldn’t walk away far from home. Today, grandma didn't dress her hair. It tumbles on her strong shoulders as if happy ink, fluid silk released from the ink-bottle. Ama tiptoes trying to immerse her hands in Miko’s hair. Grandma kneels down to make it easier for her. The undertones of memories are visible in Miko’s smile: “Aika loved rain,” she adds. Ama hopes that she can talk her grandma into some stories about her mother.

"Why, grandma? When it rains, no play outdoors."

"Certainly, you need to find out more about the magic of the rain, Ama-chan."

Two Full Moons

Ama lies on her stomach, quietly making her sails ready for the open sea of the dreams. The night swells. She nestles her face against her hands, not far away from the paper sliding door, folded like a fan. Warm lights of the night step into her room. The full moon seems to take possession of a little girl’s figure. Her eyes are lustrous. She gazes at the moon’s crater visage with dreamy admiration. Ama’s mind wanders through the past events. ‘I’d love to see the necklace once again,” she muses. Joy and longing make such a mixture of feelings for her; joy of giving and longing for the mum’s essence enchanted in the necklace. However, there is something mysterious what descends on the silence of the night as if the ring, the bells of the necklace soared gently down. ‘What produces this sound?’ Little girl wonders and dives into darkness of the garden. Then, she looks up; her eyes narrow, startled by the view. Ama rubs them dynamically to improve their vision. Brightening the space up, two moons hang next to each other and scrutinize Ama, suffused with their light. The bells of the necklace die away. Little girl gives a laugh. She is fond of such games. One of the moons seems to be more fluid, animate from within. Its contours arch and flow. Suddenly, there sprout out of the glowing plate a pointed mouth, canoe-shaped eyes, perking ears. Ama recognizes the foxy head. ‘KITSUNE! You can travel high!

There dangles and squirms on its nose something golden, like Ama’s necklace. The magical fox winks at the little girl. And then, unexpectedly the illusion creeps over her making the eyelids heavy. The weird moon lands on them with its unbridled trickiness.

Ama's saying

Love is like blowing about the dandelion's little umbrellas, so easy and fabulous.

Jet-black crows meet the dirt silver fox

The crows make circles around the branches of the camphor tree, as if they moved on one of the orbits of the starry necklace; captured by the gravity of its shine. Ama sleeps calmly, not sensing anything beyond the dreams that dream her. The branch of the camphor tree shakes gently when the crows land fluttering their wings. They’re getting closer to the golden aim. Unaware of anything, the necklace willingly pronounces the syllables of the sudden quivers. And as for the crows, they hop from one leg to the other, moving forward and backwards. It seems to be a mysterious ritual, heading for the final seizure. Then, they nudge the necklace with their beaks, so it rocks as if the boat on the stormy waves, more and more chaotically. ‘The fruit’ succumbs to the beaks of the crows, as their movement intensifies and grows in power.

Unexpectedly, the space of the ritual is disturbed by an annoying sound. It breaks into, as if an intruder who symbolically scratches the beaks with the claws that right now drill the crevices in ‘Mu-san’s bark.

“Krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaa.” One of the jet-black crows makes a sound of discontentment, tilting its little head. “One of kitsune kind roams over here.” The crows flutter their wings and withdraw. A slender shape, with dirt silver coat, shines warningly. Its reflection spreads out in the pupils of the crows, meaning a threat of being played a trick on. Lingering flutter of the wings finally wakes Ama up. Two crows get away. Ama grabs the necklace bobbing up and down, but unfortunately drops it to the ground. It slowly soars down, bouncing off the branches. Ama sees only the shadow of the necklace when it finally touches the ground. All of a sudden, another shadow appears – slender, moving fast. It lowers its head and catches the necklace with its mouth.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh” Ama recognizes the familiar shadow of the magical fox. “Please, get the necklace back!” she shouts from above, fazed by the unfolding of events. However, the beast disappears into the brightness of the day, somewhere in the deep grass.

Ama's saying

Secrets love to be secretive

A golden necklace of the jade flowers

Ama holds in her little hand a golden necklace that used to belong to her mother. The palm like a heart pulsates, opening and closing. Then, Ama lifts it, full of the warm luster and releases the necklace to swing on one of the branches, brushed by the breeze. At eye level, golden dragonflies swirl, attracted by the cascades of the jade flowers.

‘What do you think of the necklace as a gift for the magical fox?’ Little girl inquires the friend, although the thought of separation with the golden necklace makes her little heart quiver. ‘Mu-san’ rustles an answer by means of its lush foliage. One of the near branches of the camphor tree creaks noisily as if it wanted to reach out and touch the golden treasure.

‘It is said that the jade flowers get even greener if one wears them long enough, close to the body.” Ama shares her knowledge with the friend. ‘Miko-san says jades connect to what is ‘illusive’. Do you maybe know what she means?’ All of a sudden, little girl lets out a gigantic yawn. The noon nap is at her heels, demanding Ama’s attention. She curls up. The necklace seems to twinkle like stars caught in the net of the camphor tree’s presence. The sun’s rays make its goldeness even more alive. Out of nowhere appear the crows, at first curious, then desirous of this starry ‘fruit’.

Ama's advice

"Swing as high as possible. Your feet will finally touch the sky and saturate with the floating clouds."

"You can always figure it out later while playing."

Camphor tree visit

One of the prodigious, evergreen camphor trees is Ama’s friend. It has a pale, rough bark, very pleasant in touch if you don’t mind a little bit of tickles. It grows not far away from Ama’s house, so she can visit it often. Now, in spring, the camphor tree is sprinkled with dozens of little white flowers. Ama smells them often and tries to understand their fragrant language. Everything speaks. Even, does the trunk Ama loves to climb up so much. When she nestles against the camphor tree’s branches she imagines the embrace of her mum’s arms. To release the aromatic presence of the glossy leaves Ama squeezes them gnetly in her hands. Grandma Miko often prepares sweets, adding camphor as a flavor and magical ingredient. It spreads through the house, as the symbolic haze of a bond that links Ama with the old, camphor tree, her confidant. But, little girl knows how to listen too when her friend responds by a subtle gust of wind or by a stray, whirling leaf which finally lands on Ama’s little head with a tender brush.

Ama gathers the light

Ama sits on the bamboo floor and watches warm, orange-pinkish shafts of fading light flooding into Miko’s workshop. Little girl is thoughtful, but at the same time watchful. She seems to wait for something. Grandma’s skillful hands weave the mesh of a tatami mat. All of a sudden, she addresses Ama, not taking her eyes off work.

“Ama-chan, please, light okiandon. It’s getting dark.” Miko’s voice is peaceful, in concert with the smooth motion of her hands.

Little girl rises vigorously as if something she waited for, was finally fulfilled. Clearly, Ama is content with her duty. Little girl believes that okiandon lamps are nocturnal creatures who fall asleep by day and wake up to drift on the waves of darkness like cocoons lit from within. The one about to brighten up in a while is special for Ama. Miko keeps it in her workshop as if it is quite ordinary. But, little girl sees how grandma looks at it. Her eyes are enwrapped in this special tender mist while flicker through okiandon’s shape. Hinata, Miko’s friend gifted it to her. He knows how to make Ama laugh. His name means ‘sunflower’ or ‘facing sun’.

Little girl strokes the bamboo frame of okiandon tenderly.

‘Okiandon wakes up very slowly,’ grandma always says. ‘Don’t rouse it from sleep. Be gentle.’

Ama’s hand reaches out to the ceramic holder and plants little flame in its belly. Paper, indigo sphere brightens up. Ama knows that indigo is one of Miko’s favorite colors.

“Grandma?”

“Yes?”

“The shadow of the magical fox hasn’t visited me for the second time.” There is a note of disappointment in Ama’s voice.

“You can make him visit again.” Miko still keeps weaving the tatami mat. Ama perches next to her.

“But, what should I do, grandma? How could I encourage him to come?”

“Magical foxes can’t resist to gifts.”

“Ohhhhhhh, what might it be?” Ama’s eyes fill up with the clouds of little stars - fireflies.

Miko lifts her head, glances at Ama and says: “Each of the magical foxes is unique. It’s a receiver who chooses a gift for himself.”

Playing with the shadows

Ama leaps joyfully. She likes when Miko spends time with her and tells her stories about other, unknown worlds. ‘Grandma is beautiful,’ little girl concludes, taking a glance at Miko whose body language knows no doubts.

“Let’s play with our shadows,” grandma suggests.

“Yes, Miko-san!” Ama can’t resist exploring of the new dimensions. She bursts out laughing, as her shadow seems so amusing to her. It’s like a speck of ink on a world-wide sheet of paper. Moreover, it imitates everything what she does. But can it speak itself?

“Miko-san?” Ama asks.

“Yes?”

“Does shadow sprout out of my feet?” Little girl tries to flick her shadow off her sandals. Unfortunately, in vain. They seem inseparable. After a while, Ama starts to watch Miko dancing with her shadow.

“What are you doing, grandma?” little girl asks, her curiosity lingers.

“I try to encourage my shadow to speak with me,” Miko provides an explanation. “It’s like a wild creature. I need to tame it just a little bit.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Ama thinks aloud.

“I can do it too.” Her assumption is well-grounded. She tamed a stray kitten one day.

“Miko-san?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I should tame the shadow of the magical fox, just a little bit,” Ama says. She squats and touches with her hand the intestines of her shadow.

“I think it’s a terrific idea!” Miko squats next to Ama. Her hand follows little girl’s hand.

“Should I dance with him?” Ama seems somewhat confused.

"Magical fox?!"

Somebody’s hands spread out fusuma’s wings. Ama listens for. Miko looks into the room and sees a child with its nose flattened out on one of the painted branches of the camphor tree. She smiles and gracefully sits on the tatami mats; no words, just waiting for the unfolding of events. Little girl catches her grandma’s glimpse and exclaims enthusiastically:

“Miko-san! Have you seen it?!”

“Who, Ama-chan?” Miko’s voice flows smoothly and quietly.

“Magical fox?!”

“It must have been a dream, Ama-chan” Grandma replies.

“But, Miko-san! I’ve really seen it!” The little girl doesn’t give up.

“All right, then. Tell me how it looked like,” Miko encourages Ama with a nod. Little girl smiles and looks into her grandma’s violet eyes which seem to radiate the unknown depths. Then, she comes up to Miko and rests on her laps. Enveloping grandma’s skin a delicate scent of roses fills Ama’s nose with warm lightness.

“Actually, I’ve seen only its shadow. I don’t know if that kitsune was real.” A grimace of doubt appears on Ama’s face.

“Come, I’ll show you something,” Miko says. They rise together. Ama weaves her little fingers into Miko’s hand and follows her to the garden. Grandma moves so lightly as if she were just a breath of air.

Ama awakes playfully

Ama stretches herself on a bed of tatami mats, sprawls her arms and legs so wide that her body, for a moment, takes a shape of a starfish. She giggles under the thin cover which tickles her nose. Then, she begins to blow into the fabric. While it doesn’t make any difference the little girl throws away the cover with one fast movement of her legs which seem to return an invisible ball. Ama breathes deeply. Then she rises a little bit on her elbows and casts a glance at blueness of fusuma, radiant from within with light penetrating from the other part of the house. Ama looks with her eyes for the painted shapes of little yellow birds inhabiting twisted branches of a camphor tree. Now, they seem to blur into sparkling oneness. The little girl smiles and sits on her legs. Unexpectedly, out of one point in fusuma’s space there seem to flow out an increasing shadow. It spills and grows into a human shape.

“Uhhhhhhhhh” the little girl holds the breath for a while. She takes a closer look and recognizes uiwata of her grandma Miko who most probably drinks her morning cup of tea. Ama sees her back but imagines how her grandma sips the golden liquid with her eyes half-opened. Two bamboo hair-sticks piercing the round, shadowy outline of Miko’s head attract little girl’s glance.

‘Miko surely wears the velvety, black, cotton crepe with a fresh lavender flower of azalea fastened to it’ Ama speaks under her nose. Then, she decides to greet her grandma, but notices a shadowy, pointed shape, round at the end, sticking out from fusuma’s edge.

‘What is that?’ Ama starts to wonder. She places her eyes on minute, arched tentacles growing out of the pointed shape. They seem to shiver gently. Ama approaches fusuma, slowly gliding over the tatami mats.

‘Who are you?’ She addresses the shadowy creature. The sound of Ama’s voice brings a change.

The pointed shape aims at her. It touches fusuma on the other side.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” Ama produces a sound of surprise witnessing transformation. A little bit higher, above the pointed nose, there ascend two triangular towers of ears – shapely and fluffy. Ama’s mind devotes itself entirely to the process of associations. A few letters whirl chaotically in her thoughts, finally composing only one word.

“K-I-T-S-U-N-E”

Ama whispers that word and hides her lips under her hands as if she said something what shouldn’t have been said. The little girl heard about the magical foxes in Miko’s stories. According to legends, they have never succeeded in acquiring a good reputation.

Now, Ama stares into the most treacherous of eyes that hide on the other side of fusuma ready to cast their spells on her. She hears the pointed nose sniffs the air filled with her sweet, lemon-grass scent.