Untitled (Portrait With Oracle Bones)

At the far end of the exhibition space was a pile of what appeared to be countless bones. Like his mourning for the death of his lover, this pile of bones seemed to have been created as a mourning for a being in another dimension. That evening he felt deeply moved, and he wrote a poem.

On the other side was the future of the world. The future of mankind. The pile of bones I had built was the image of the oracle I had made. It had been set up so that a ray of light would issue from its head. In that ray there was a ray of light, and a ray of light was being created. There was a ray of light that resembled the future of mankind, an image of mankind, in which all the memories of me, Yuma Kishi, had been gathered.