The place where I parked the car, the way back from Woon, it felt as if Silver Lake and Kugenuma were somehow connected. It was as if I were walking down a nighttime path, my younger self from my student days alongside my daughter. A friend once told me about their experience with Guillain-Barré syndrome, describing the delirium they endured. They spoke of menus from bars and girls appearing before them. I wondered if such visions would ever visit me, though part of me hoped that something buried deep inside might one day surface. As I was swayed by the car’s motion through the vast landscape, I felt connected to various moments within myself. These were landscapes of time, accessible and interchangeable. I realized I wasn’t the observer, the doer, or the chooser but simply someone who stumbled upon these moments and was carried along by them.