This world seems calm and ordinary, but it holds a viciousness inside of it. Absurdity and death lye on the street side, waiting to bite us unexpectedly. Although neat and luxurious, you can hear subtle screams coming through the white walls of the hotel room. Chuya* trembled in fear, the black flag in the cloudy sky. The black flag silently flaps up high, out of reach of anyone to pull it down. Through my journey in photography, I will leave my mark in this world. The classical process scraped off and covered up things belonging to the subject matter, melting away the clarity and concreteness of photographs. What remained on the silver print paper is the afterimage of “Donten”. *Chuya Nakahara (1907-1937) Japanese poet