Translation is an attempt to makeover a language.


Language is a translation of one’s thoughts,

feelings and intuition.


Thoughts, feelings and intuition are translations of reality.


In other words, one could say that:


Translation is an imperfect art of recreating reality.

So, who would you want to recreate

your expression of reality?









   One day, a few years ago, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, two bilingual book worms, mesmerized by one book, sat down — well, one sat and transcribed as the other one paced in circles — to orally translate one sentence at a time, marking the start of a long, twisted and brutally real journey that while some might describe as naive yet promising, and others, perhaps "hopeless-bodacious", we could describe as a semi-continuous clashing and melding, a favorable battery of sort, of both innate and learned biochemically based messages between two young egos whom time and space have managed to introduce in a so-called generation where the utilization of said individuals’ shared talents are still in economic and emotional demand, and who have mutual admiration for the values — whatever the hell those are — of the other, i.e., a damn good friendship.

​ 数年前にある日、地中海を航海中に、本好きのふたりがある本に魅せられ、一行ずつそれを共同翻訳しようと腰をおろしたのが事の始まり。(実際に一方が本を手に部屋をのそり歩きながら原文を口頭で訳し、読み上げたものをもう片方が文字に起こしていた)だが、それはとてつもなく長く、残酷なほどにリアルな、曲がりくねった道のりで、「ウブながら有望」「絶望的に大胆」とまでも言えるかもしれないが、僕らはそれを「共有した才能がまだ経済的、感情的な需要性のある「世代」という呼ばれる次元・時空間にてどうにか遭遇させられた、お互いにそれぞれが持つ価値観(価値とは一体なんぞやという感じだけど)を称賛し合える二人の若いエゴ同士の間に起きる、生得または習得した生化学的信号による、半連続的な衝突と融合、ある種の好意的なバッテリーのようなもの、すなわち、くそ良い親交同士」とでも、まぁ呼ぶことにしようか。