Aoyama

Under the night sky of Los Angeles, a fine horse and a young man, the sound of horse hooves clattering on the bluestone slabs.
He seemed like a character in a storyteller's story, coming from the clouds and waterfalls, going to the rivers and lakes, walking to the green mountains, and watching the sunset in the west.
If you ask, who is the one who will never return in this world?
He would answer, the breeze, the bright moon, and me.
……
This may be a long story, let me tell you slowly.