さて、どちらへ行かう風がふくnow then, which way shall I go — the wind blows

行き先は決まっていない。決めなくてもいい。立ち止まって思案する頬を、風がふいと撫でていく。それなら風の吹くほうへ。何も持たない放浪の身軽さが、朝の深呼吸のように響く。迷うことさえ、自由のかたちに見えてくる。There is no set destination. There need not be. As he pauses to consider, a wind brushes his cheek. Then let it be the way the wind blows. The lightness of a wanderer who owns nothing rings out like a deep breath of morning. Even hesitation begins to look like a form of freedom.