Twilight is the hour when the boundaries of the world gently begin to blur. In that dimming light, the merry-go-round rests like a small island, slowly casting its lengthening shadow. The carousel horses, tracing the same circle again and again, seem as if they exist outside the flow of time.
They go nowhere.
The merry-go-round goes nowhere.
Beyond this unmoving circle, a breeze passes through. It carries the scent of distant lands, the memory of someone's laughter, and the lingering sorrow of someone's tearful evening. A "wandering wind" that has traveled countless landscapes, and a "closed circle" that spins endlessly without arriving anywhere.
When these two - so different in nature - cross paths in the twilight, the world breathes just a little deeper.
The carousel horses, holding the children's joyful voices close, quietly stand bathed in the sunset glow. Only the warmth left on their backs lingers softly. It is a moment of time that will never return.
Ah, if only time could stop, just like this.
The horses that spin yet arrive nowhere, and the wind that circles and keeps moving on. I wanted to capture both the touch of things that fade away, and the faint budding of strength moving toward tomorrow, within a single revolving scene.
May this piece become a moment that softly resonates with the twilight memories held deep in the hearts of those who perform it.

(Masaki Itani)