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The moment when it seems to decay at any moment. It seems that ephemeral and beautiful things coexist. Glasswork that is thin and transparent, and is likely to break with a handful. A soap bubble that flutters in the air and eventually breaks and flies away. Dead leaves should not seem to be one of them. Aoba, which is shining in the midsummer sun, clings to the branches firmly even when strong winds blow. By the time the green leaves become dead, the veins become delicate, like lace knitting. When I put dead leaves on my palm, it seems to break with a loud noise. It captures this decaying beautifully decaying process.

Tsutomu Takasaki / Photo / Life 31

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