Gold rings in the mountains, a magnificent orchestral performance, a marksman on a ship at sea, and books stored in an underground vault after a great war. > Bonds Gallery

I am walking through the mountains.
To my right, I spot a glittering golden object amidst the fallen leaves.

It is a thick gold ring.
Arranged vertically in the fallen leaves, I see rows of rings: three in the first row, three in the second, and three in the third.

"You just need to align them."

A man speaks from behind me.
It seems there are other people there as well.

As the rings align vertically,
the sound of a magnificent, massive orchestra begins to play.
Wooden rods, small enough to hold in one's hand, stand upright.
Through these wooden rods, the sensation of the sea is conveyed.
It seems each rod transmits a different kind of feeling.

The primal energies of the sea, the air, and the land appear to flow down into the wood, accompanied by the grand music.

I walk toward the right side of the mountain while looking at the wooden rods.

To the right, beyond a small stream, I see a stone wall or a log cabin.
The orchestra is now building toward its finale.
For some reason, I feel the final movement will conclude at that stone wall or log cabin.

I toss two thick, small pieces of log into a hole in the ground in front of the stone wall.
I fill the hole to ensure the performance concludes properly.

Knowing the orchestral piece was coming to an end, I felt that for it to finish perfectly,
I needed to fill that pit in the ground by the stone wall. ..

There is a boat out on the water ahead. A hunter who catches wild boars is on board.
I give instructions to this hunter based on the concept of "3.14"—like the value of pi rounded to two decimal places.
It doesn't work out to a perfect, clean number, but the job gets done anyway.
He’s reliable enough.

From here on land, I issue orders to the hunter using that "3.14" framework.
The hunter carries out the tasks exactly as I instruct.

..

It seems a major war has just ended.
This place looks like the final defensive outpost or the palace of some kingdom or nation.

We entered this place and emerged victorious.
It’s all wrapped up now.
We are at the final stage of the operation.

I head up toward the mountain behind us.

I load small envelopes onto a handcart and make my way back down the mountain path.
The envelopes bear the names of people I know well.

They are small, yellow envelopes—about the size of a palm.
Up ahead, I spot N, a colleague from work.
He is a diligent guy.

- "Can I take a look?"
- "Sure."

- "Oh, is it *that* OO?"
- "No, it’s just someone who shares the same name as OO."

He wants to see the rolled-up books inside the cart I’m pushing.
N pulls out one of the rolled-up books and speaks to me.

I intend to take these books to the storage room in the underground archive.
- "I need to go with you. That’s the only way to know the way."
N insists on accompanying me.

He says that since he knows the underground archive well, we should take the books down there together.