An essay on a photo collection I created from photographs taken at the Yamashita Park Rose Garden and the Harbor View Park Rose Garden in Yokohama, and on the performances of geniuses named Hilary Hahn, Himari, and Murata Natsuho, together with my own photography, my life, and my thoughts about an unfinished masterpiece.

As I have written several times in this column, I describe myself as one of the world’s leading amateur photographers when it comes to photographing Kyoto and other such places.
But no matter how wonderful photographs may be, they have no meaning if they are left dead and buried inside a PC.
By the beginning of last year, their number had exceeded approximately 200,000.
A young Kyoto University student, my junior, told me that there was an app that could do what I had in mind.
So I began publishing “The Turntable of Civilization Photo Collection” on YouTube.
Since the beginning of last year, I have published it almost every day, and at present the number has reached 703 works.
About Hilary Hahn.
I had hardly listened to her performances at all.
I had respected her, but kept my distance.
The reason is that, especially in the United States, the evaluation of her had reached the very summit.
After all, she had even won Grammy Awards.
The photographs I took on May 8 at the Yamashita Park Rose Garden and the Harbor View Park Rose Garden in Yokohama were, even to my own eyes, magnificent.
As readers know, although I am an unknown small and medium-sized business owner in Japan, I am a man who paid more than 17 billion yen in taxes to the Japanese state in only the ten years that were the prime of my business life.
As I have already written, I was also born in postwar Japan with a brain in the realm called genius.
As I have also written, in 2011 I suffered a serious illness, was told by my attending physician that my “chance of survival was 25%,” and spent eight long months in the hospital.
When I was completely cured and discharged, I cut off all my businesses.
Though I had had so many business cards that they could not be stored away.
That is because the role of my later life is to continue writing “The Turntable of Civilization,” without compensation, for Japan and for the world.
A classmate from my alma mater, which I love forever, once said of me, “One day he will probably leave a major footprint in Japan’s literary world.”
The great work that I think should be written is almost complete in my mind.
I consider Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina to be the greatest novel in human history.
A great work that surpasses that Anna Karenina.
I am also convinced that, once written, it will become a great bestseller.
But my life has already fulfilled its role simply by continuing to write this column, “The Turntable of Civilization,” the one and only blog in the postwar world.
And yet, of course, a great work that remains in human history should be written.
I do not want to write it alone.
That, too, is an idea that came to me precisely because I am a true genius.
As my close friends and sincere readers know, my life, compared with the path that should have been promised to me, was a life that could not help but go off onto a side road.
My alma mater was a school with boys and girls educated separately.
There are only men and women in this world.
All this talk about LGBT and so on is nonsense spoken by pseudo-moralists and foolish, low-intelligence people.
Gays and lesbians have existed from ancient times to the present, in every age and every country.
People with such preferences need only live accordingly.
In Japan, the country with the highest level of public morality in the world, this has existed from long ago as something quite ordinary.
I learned only in recent years that Kūkai himself was exactly that.
Such things do not matter.
In any case, there are only men and women in this world.
I have also written that I am the man who loves women most in the world.
It has been more than twenty years since I began photographing flowers, birds, wind, and moon.
The beauty of flowers, birds, wind, and moon is nothing less than astonishing.
But I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that flowers, birds, wind, and moon cannot rival the beauty of women.
It is only natural that the greatest novel in human history, which I will write, cannot be written by one person, and must not be written by one person.
Had I lived a life of smooth sailing, I would have found that partner immediately.
But I completely went off onto a side road—though I am a true elite, an elite among elites—and lived a life so completely that of an outsider as to inspire admiration.
A certain person who had lived the very definition of an insider’s life once said to me, “Your life is like walking a tightrope…”
With this piece, I am seeking the woman whom I need.
The great work mentioned above already has almost its entire plot completed in my mind.
Because it is a “transcendence” born from the entire “view” of my life, there is no way it is not a super-dreadnought work.
“I will help you. Let us write it together… For the sake of humanity, and also to bring into being a novel that finally surpasses Anna Karenina, let us write that great work together.”
I await contact from a talented woman who will say those words.
Contact: bunmei2026@gmail.com
To return to Hilary Hahn.
Last night, I thought I would republish the above photographs of the Yokohama rose gardens with Bruch’s Violin Concerto.
The other day, while listening on YouTube, a wonderful performance appeared, in which she played with Paavo Järvi.
The piece was Mendelssohn.
I decided immediately to use it.
Naturally, the usual copyright notice appeared.
In the same way, her performance was good.
And yet.
Last night, when I published it on YouTube as usual, a strange notice appeared.
This video—that is, my photo collection—became unavailable for viewing.
Wondering what on earth had happened, I checked with the AI service to which I have a paid subscription.
I followed the first suggestion, but there was no improvement at all.
So, although the time and effort would be wasted, I decided to remake it.
The second result in the search was a performance from two years ago by Himari with the New Japan Philharmonic.
I decided immediately.
It was the first time I had used Himari.
After posting it, I watched it.
I was astonished.
My photographs were alive.
Genius knows genius.
First-rate knows first-rate.
On New Year’s Eve in 2020, I first learned that two super-dreadnought genius girls, Murata Natsuho and Himari, had been born in Japan.
Moreover, they are only four years apart in age.
My photographs are photographs of the life of genius.
The performances of Murata Natsuho and Himari are performances of genius.
Hilary Hahn’s performance, too, was unmistakably the performance of a genius.
This morning, when I woke up, I realized something.
Ah, I see.
Last night’s phenomenon was not a mere phenomenon.
Late at night in Japan is daytime in Europe—all companies are open for business.
That criminal must have made a malicious report to the video publication destination, I thought.
Classical music is by no means flourishing.
One can understand it immediately by going to a concert.
There are truly few young people.
The majority are elderly people.
As a result of my unpaid actions, I also think it would be good if even a few young people became familiar with it.
Though I am doing work that requires tremendous time and effort.
The genius of Himari… and the genius of Murata Natsuho… the fact that the two of them are super-dreadnought geniuses made me write this piece.