The Impressionists loved to paint bright, cheerful scenes of human life, an outdoor world of picnics and dances and cafés and fields, playing with natural colours that shift with light. For them, light was the joy of life, a palette of pleasures. But for me now, all I see in that light is the melancholy that it displaces and the gloom that lies beneath it. What on earth have I seen up until now? I could see nothing.
Iwaki Kei, Farewell, My Orange, translation by Meredith McKinney