Glorious days reside within the opal's embrace.

I have died.
I can see the clouds moving slowly in the blue sky.
A massive rainbow, visible only partially, touches down on the endlessly spreading meadow.

There's a painting by Monet titled "A Stroll on the Cliffs of Pourville," where the sea, the river, and even the grass growing on the ground appear in seven colors, just like in that painting.

As soon as I arrived here, the lake became my favorite place.
Floating in the water are water lilies like those Monet painted, but the water isn't crystal clear; it's a milky white, as if the Virgin Mary's milk had flowed into it. Memories from my life flicker on the surface of the lake like opals.
Various radiant memories take turns emerging.

In the yellow light, I see the sunlight I basked in on the rooftop after leaving the study room during the summer vacation of my impending high school exams.

In the blue light, I see fish swimming in the waters of Hachijojima.
The grassy hill where I used to lie down with my best friend, skipping lectures during university days, is in the green light.

The fully bloomed cherry blossoms of Chidorigafuchi that my lover and I gazed at while on a boat ride are in the pink light.

The 99 roses I received during the proposal are in the red light.

My mother, with whom I stopped speaking during her later years due to an argument, and the wisteria of Kashima Island from my youth are reflected in the purple light.

Back then, I often felt uplifted and would shed tears easily.
Even now, I can see that slightly blurred, glittering world with my teary eyes, right on the water's surface.

Thinking back, I led an easily influenced and unstable life during my girlhood.
I would be hurt by trivial things and, especially with major changes, I couldn't maintain my composure and felt on the brink of breaking down.

Dip me in colored water, and I would become tinted by that color.

Forget to immerse and dry me, and I'd lose my former transparency and sparkle, turning completely white. Returning to transparency would require a long passage of time.

In my youthful days, I was like an opal. I didn't realize its beauty or the colors it held back then.
But being here now, I understand it clearly.
A girl with various colors becomes all the more beautiful because of her wavering.
On that day, I continue to shine within this opal lake.

Yu Tsuyuhara wrote.

Artistic Comment: I want you to wear opal with the feeling of reminiscing about your girlhood. From a mother to a child, and from a grandmother to a grandchild, I wish to present opal as a gift, conveying the desire to pass on one's radiant memories to the next generation.