This cross was given to me by a friend someone I haven't seen in years, and whose whereabouts I no longer know.

He was the first friend I made after moving to Tokyo.

He had tattoos covering his arms and always carried a camera.

I loved the photos he took.

For me, Tokyo was a city that felt hollow and lonely, yet through his photographs, it shone with a quiet beauty.

Of course, beauty isn't something superficial.

Why I felt that way, I still don't know.

One day, he invited me over to his place.

It was his habit to photograph anyone who came to visit.

"Stand by the wall," he said, and took a few shots of me.

After the shoot, he suddenly said, "I'm trying to get rid of things in my place."

And with that, he handed me this cross.

Apparently, it was handcrafted by an artist in England.

But now, I have no way of knowing who made it, or for what purpose.

Every time I look at this cross, I think of him.

People who live in the same city yet fade from your life, never to be seen again.

Faces and names that slowly slip away from memory.

Even the people we're connected to now-how many more times will we see them before we die?

Do you have someone like that in your life?

This cross and vintage clothing share something in common.

We don't know who owned them, what kind of life they lived, or who they spent time with.

Yet, it's in that "uncertainty" and "blank space" that there seems to be a profound story.

The vintage clothing is a trace of someone who once wore it, walked somewhere, and felt something.

Now, it has passed into someone else's hands, giving birth to a new narrative.

The same goes for the cross: we don't know its history, who made it, or what it was created for.

But now, in my hands, it begins to take on meaning.

Though we can't know the past, it is within that emptiness that beauty lies, and it is through that emptiness that we feel the present.

Every object carries the intersection of past and future, and by accepting it, new life is breathed into it.

In doing so, we learn something from that object, are asked questions, and gradually, we change.

VOID.