My naan-chapas were cooked, my coffee was poured, and I was about to start my brunch, and what sound should reach my ears but the clanging engine of a light pickup truck groaning under the weight of a load of gas canisters. The Sato that is Hideo had come to call.

He’s always got such uncanny timing.

Just as we’re settling into a tea break during forestry management days or cutting the grass around the KAIR works, or having a little meeting…

Always, with the accuracy of a sharpshooter, or maybe it’s some kind of sixth sense? Hideo arrives on the scene.

This morning’s brunch was at an irregular time, but he didn’t miss his mark. Amazing.

Today’s topic was cameras.

Hideo tells me he has terrible luck with cameras.

On his honeymoon, he brought a camera with a 36 frame roll of film in it. Towards the end of the trip, he’d already taken 40 or 50 photos so he thought he’d gotten a real deal, but it turned out the film hadn’t been wound properly. All the pictures he’d taken were gone. His new bride was unhappy.

When he went golfing in America with Mr. Ominami, the same thing happened. To everyone’s annoyance, from the day he properly inserted the film onwards there was nothing but rain, and no chance to take any good pictures.

And so on and so forth…

But he still hasn’t given up. He tried to take a picture with his mobile phone, which he still hasn’t gotten used to.

At someone else’s dining table (mine!), he suddenly got up on the chair and tried to take a picture.

“Uh, what’s this… save data…do I push this button here?”

He narrated the whole process from atop his chair.

He’s very noble. Even gentlemanly. But I don’t think I want to be like him.

Everyone has their own path to walk, and that’s OK. I always watch you, Hideo, and am encouraged by this.