夜明けの山あいに、白い霧がゆるやかに流れ込む。稜線をなぞるように雲がほどけ、緑の山肌がほのかに姿を見せる。見慣れたはずの里の風景が、霧をまとうだけで、どこか遠い秘境のように立ちあらわれる。筑北の朝は、そんな静けさから始まる。
English
At dawn, white mist drifts slowly into the folds of the hills. It unspools along the ridgelines, and the green slopes surface faintly, one by one. A scene the village knows by heart — fields, a scatter of houses, the far peaks dissolving into haze — turns, beneath its mantle of mist, into somewhere remote and unmapped, a hidden land seen only for a moment before it is gone. In Chikuhoku, the morning begins in stillness like this.
