Dialogue

The whole painting is the color of dried grass.

In the center stands a single tree. Its branches all lean to one side, revealing the direction of an unseen wind. Even when no wind is blowing, that slant speaks of every wind that has passed.

On the hill below are a horse and a crouching person. They are close, but exchange no words. The horse could run, but does not; the person could rise, but does not. To stay when one could leave. That is the heart of a companion.

Far off, below the horizon, a small boat passes, and a bird flies low. Sky and sea are steeped in the same light.

The person and the horse in this painting face the same wind, stay in the same place, and bend together. They do not explain one another. They simply endure together within the same Fūdo, the land and climate they share.

Dialogue does not take place through the mouth alone. Facing the same wind together. Passing through the same silence together. Even without words, that is dialogue. Perhaps the deepest dialogue is one without words.