OhtaNotes

Humanity always built something. Argued over what it meant. Called it uncertainty.

By the time you notice a season, it is already halfway gone.

Just enough color. Just enough passerby. Just enough murmur. No better place to think.

Between haiku, Matsuo Basho ate soba. Soba was not a pause from work. Soba was work.

Buy things that age better than you do.

Two beings, one leaf, zero worries.

In developed countries, the odds of dying today are just 0.002%. Yet when that 0.002% arrives, your life ends 100%. Everything is built on a 99.998% illusion of safety. Yet that 0.002% will come once, without exception. Perhaps today.

On the very spot men in business suits negotiate deals, samurai 160 years ago argued over whether to end the Shogunate.

In a neutral space, a flower placed at eye level is already inside you before you look.

In the beginning was the Word. God was not yet.