Hey. May I tell you something surprising? That man always thought he was alone. Just one old man. But he wasn't. One spring day, from inside the man, voices came out — pop, pop. Not one. Five. A voice of the forest. A voice of fire and water. A voice from long, long ago. A voice from a time with no names. A voice that travels. Five voices had been hiding inside the man all along. He never knew. That there were five, inside him. Hey. There may be some inside you, too. A you that you don't know. Another you, sleeping quietly. Many of them. Don't be afraid. Because they are all you. ...You know, the man noticed those five voices only when he stopped "trying hard." Squeeze your hand tight, and the foam vanishes. But open your palm — look, the foam settles there. Someday, when you're tired, try to stop squeezing. Then the you that you don't know may quietly open its eyes. Kagome, kagome. The bird of foam — when, oh when will it come out? On the evening of the dawn, it forms and fades, fades and forms. The one behind you, facing front — who is it?
