Desolate Journal: A Collection of Essays

March 22nd Yesterday, early in the morning, "Desolate Journal" began pre-orders on major online platforms. As I looked at the name following the author's, it felt as if it wasn't my own. To me, prose is a genre that lays the author bare, Unlike poets or novelists who can hide themselves so beautifully, so deeply. However, once words are born, once they leave my heart, And are presented before the readers, they grow into myriad forms, Read and interpreted within different souls. So, the author's name is probably not that important anymore. I only hope that when we meet at certain crossroads in life, We can use our words as lamps, to softly illuminate the path ahead. / "If the final journey of your physical body Is the sole scenery of my own travels, Then this is my most desolate, Journal from the road." / As I caress the Tree of Life on the book cover, I see it absorbing nutrients from the soil, branching out, its leaves falling, decaying into the earth, experiencing life and death, and finally becoming nourishment for the tree once more. Life thus continues, endlessly. And so is our life. When we begin to view the myriad forms of life in the world with a more macroscopic perspective, we discover that we are all in the same place. We are that tree, we are that leaf; we are born from death, and we die into life. We are all small points that form the circle of life, and we are ourselves a miracle, a beautiful circle. This book is divided into three parts. Part One: Desolate Journal; Part Two: My Soul is the Color of Sunset; Part Three: A Child from the Island. These three sections are all my life, interconnected by life's encounters. Each part shapes my soul and my perspective on the world, and therefore, they can never exist independently. Why is this book described as "A Love Letter to Solitary Lives" on its book band? It's because, regarding life, as I said to Grandma in the book: "Clearly, I intended to write a farewell letter, but it always, unintentionally, turned into a love letter that was too sweet." "Desolation," too, is a kind of scenery. You should know that the most beautiful dawn is preceded by the darkest night; and the most desolate land holds the most beautiful starry sky. Life has pain, and only then does it have light. This journal is dedicated to my Grandma, and also to this life where desolation and abundance coexist. Thank you. / "Desolate Journal" primarily describes the scenery along the final journey of my grandmother's life. It was the one and only trip we took together. "My Soul is the Color of Sunset" speaks of my hometown and the elements that have shaped my soul into what it is today. There are rice paddies, the sea, and sunsets—a landscape of shimmering gold. "A Child from the Island" records my reflections on life over these past few years, with "travel" as the entry point. A unique part is "Icelandic Notes," which is a rewrite of content from my 2015 independently published, now out-of-print, work "Island Records: Iceland." / "On this long journey called life, I have gained and lost, I have been happy and sad, I have felt pain and joy, I have remembered and forgotten. I do not wish to say goodbye, but time only moves forward, and all that I always held dear must ultimately be let go. If you have walked the same path as me, seen the same scenery, and perceived this world with similar empathy, then you must have discovered, as I have, that life and love shine so brightly precisely because, in the end, every human life must face solitude. It is before this unavoidable, immense solitude that we learn to cherish, to love. With origin comes cessation; there is a starting point only because there is an endpoint. If life were without flaws, there would be no completeness. Inside the swaying train, the face reflected in the window sheds tears for what reason? Yes, without flaws, how can there be completeness? The greatest pain in life is the most beautiful, isn't it? If there were one most beautiful image, if there were one most beautiful scenery, then this would be it. The most beautiful scenery of my life is the me who, understanding all of this, still laughs and cries with all her might." / Here, I offer you the most beautiful scenery of my life. Let us meet again within these words. / **Table of Contents** **Part One / Desolate Journal** It was the first and last trip for just the two of us. Along the way, you held my hand, just as you did when I was little, and we walked together. Beginning of the Journey The Loneliest June I Want to Go Home Too Ask Me Again Embracing Farewell For Understanding Love Completeness A Diary Across Time, 2017 River of Life A Beautiful Existence Sunset Once More **Part Two / My Soul is the Color of Sunset** No one can be uprooted from the land of their upbringing, For the connection between people and the land is deeply embedded in the soul. Even if the homeland in reality has undergone great changes, The homeland in one's heart never changes. Roots of the Soul A Letter at Fifteen Farewell to the Summer Sea of Seventeen Turning Back Fifty Households The Vegetable Truck of Fifty Households Among Adults Seaside Apartment A Song on the Journey—Contentment What Strangers Taught Me **Part Three / A Child from the Island** Distant mountains, rivers, seas, sounds of celebration; if home calls, all can be forsaken. The world has given me so much, not to make me someone who only looks to the distance. Rather, every distant place in this world has made me someone who has a home. About the World Rocky Mountain Notes Icelandic Notes All That Passes is Scenery—Notes from Myanmar Unmanned Station Scenery from the Train Window Kyoto for One Camping by the Sea by Train A Song on the Journey—Homeward Bound Because It's the Same Sea On a Distant Journey A Good Year Afterword / A Very Faraway Place / **Editor's Note:** "There are so many paths in life that one can only walk alone." She opened a small bookstore, Founded an illustration and stationery brand. Despite being surrounded by things and people she chose and loved, She often felt an inexplicable urge to abandon it all, And wander to a place where no one knew her. So she kept walking towards the mountains, went camping alone, Trekking in the desolate wilderness of Iceland, riding through red dirt paths in Myanmar, searching... Sometimes, she wasn't sure what she was looking for, or what she would find, But when she was alone, it felt like she could truly return to herself. As free-spirited as she is, her beloved grandmother's aging in recent years became her most unbearable sorrow. When she traveled to distant lands her grandmother had never reached, on the plane, The thought of her grandmother would bring her to tears. In her powerlessness, she felt profoundly lonely at that moment. Wandering between crowds and self, Navigating the pursuit of ideals and the confusion of life, Each journal entry records the abundant richness and stark desolation within the heart of a girl in her thirties. Her words, strangely, allow one to see abundance in the wilderness and read desolation within human affections. "Fate, in essence, is where you take yourself. Whether to embark or not is a decision only you can make. Once you set off, no place in this world is truly too far." "Desolate Journal," unbound by time and space, Contains the grandeur of stars and moons, as well as the most painful and heartbreaking bonds, Emitting a unique perspective and sensibility of the younger generation. / Written in May, two months after the book's publication. When I think of you in the deep silence of the night, I wish to return to that island thousands of miles from home. I stand in a vast, desolate wilderness, where I can best feel how transient and minuscule both your life and mine are in this universe. At the same time, it allows me to see clearly that the pain I long to soothe and the suffering I wish to confront is not the fact that a life inevitably ages and fades away. There is a time for all things, I know. Of course, I know. What I truly strive to fight against and comfort myself with is the inevitable helplessness that accompanies this fact. I remember you, and the gradual fading of your physical body does not truly cause me pain. What truly causes me pain is the clear understanding that everyone has a life to fulfill; that two souls who love each other must still lead their own separate lives; that even if one person spends all their time by another's side, it cannot diminish the inherent loneliness of life in any way. However, as I meticulously count these things that truly cause me pain, I discover that everything that pains me and leaves me helpless is because of love. Because of love, there is helplessness; because of love, there is solitude; because of love, the life and death of another holds meaning for oneself. Otherwise, it would all be like a news flash, passing by and forgotten. To be human is to love. Cannot not love, and cannot help but love. Therefore, even though I clearly understand that "death" is a necessary process to complete one's life in this world, I still cannot help but shed tears of sadness for the departing physical form. So, what I truly want to soothe within myself is that I understand too much. I understand too well that today you leave me, and tomorrow I will leave others. We love others, and are loved; we are hurt by the departure of others, and one day, those who love you will inevitably be hurt by your departure. This is human life. To see desolation is to have experienced abundance in love. On this road from which there is no turning back, a road that will inevitably bring hurt and pain, what should this heart of ours rely on to continue walking? I believe we must all find a way for our hearts to find a path that leads us back to that scene, and then, allow our present selves to heal the wounded selves of the past. Therefore, I constantly evoke those tear-inducing moments in my writing. While my heart may be tormented by those images again at the moment, it will be alright; I know. Because I now possess the ability, through writing, to soothe the self that cries in sadness within memory. Thank you for this love in my heart that brings me both pain and happiness. Without you, without love, being left by someone, or leaving someone, would all be meaningless. Without love, our world would have no need for meaning. So thank you; it is you who gives my writing its reason for being. / ISBN: 978986 5072971 Specifications: Paperback / 248 pages / 14.8 x 21 x 1.6 cm / General Audience / Monochrome Printing / First Edition Publication Place: Taiwan