As an alien, I thought I might try to interpret the story based on what I was seeing and hearing directly rather than relying on a translator. Unfortunately, this week someone has already explained the story to me (although this was almost a week ago now so naturally my memory is hazy. It’s very hot here also). However, beginning next week I will be relying on my powers of observation and imagination to present a transcription/reproduction of the plot without the help of a translator. (Disclaimer: Interpretations presented by R.Ward are in no way intended to act as substitute for the original text – this would be an exercise in futility; instead, it is a personal exercise in storytelling.)

This week the story begins like this:

Two pilgrims walking along a stony, wooden road. A marbled elephant moth floats between them twisting slowly around at the end of its string… The pair walk side by side, a female and a male. They don’t hold each other’s shiny hands since they are, in fact, siblings. They enjoy listening to the bamboo cracking and the crunching of beetles underfoot.

Meanwhile, an old man balances a precarious and dense slab of carved grey chlorite across his back groaning, occasionally dabbing at his wrinkled brow with a black polka-dot handkerchief.

Finally resting the monolith (which is, in fact, a grave stone) where it should be, the old man folds his legs and sits in the shade beneath an invisible 357 year old female ginkgo tree. A faint smell of faeces from the fallen rotted seeds carries on the breeze past his shiny nose.

Suddenly the brother and sister pilgrims appear from behind a painted curtain. The old man knows who they are. A conversation was struck. Important details were divulged. A sense of impending generated. The brother and sister are searching for their father’s killer. The old man mumbles clearly about a man with a painted back…

On the opposite side of the stage, a monk made his way through crowds of birds, startling them with his rattling stick.

Arriving at his destination (a minshuku by a swamp), the monk slowly takes off his clothes with the help of two disembodied hands and arms and folds his legs. An unknown amount of time passes…

The two pilgrims arrive at the same place as the monk (the minshuku by a swamp). They are agitated and shrill. The monk is impassive, cross-legged. Following an intensive conversation and an expressive display of body language the monk springs upright, pivots on flexible legs 180 degrees; he makes his way toward the bath, a natural earthern pit surrounded by fake snow. Then, disembodied arms and hands peel his robes away to reveal a padded, puffy back covered with tattoos. The pilgrims stand stiffly, awkwardly, rigid with shock.

When questioned by the brother and sister the man responds calmly and bluntly. He killed their father. With his eyes closed and his head down the pilgrims attack the monk with swords…

Unexpectedly a 1,000,000 candela flash occurs. Two figures are floating near a wooden wall: a God and their father’s ghost. Their father did not appear to be sad or bitter. He had no regrets about dying. The God flashes his bloodshot eyes around.

Based on the shared vision the brother and sister realise that the monk is in fact repentant. The pilgrims exit the minshuku by a swamp and continue walking toward the horizon. A marbled elephant moth is perched on a katsura, the string trails down like a strand of loose horsehair.