I’ve been feeling down ever since Ryuichi Sakamoto passed away. His music has always been a natural part of my life, like the air I breathe, since I was a teenager. So when I heard about his death from a friend, all I could think was, “Ah, finally.” Because his music lives on.
When I visited his solo exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo, it was so crowded that I couldn’t even see the exhibits and had to leave without experiencing them. However, it ultimately didn’t matter to me. I just felt a sense of contempt for the Japanese people, who seemed to make a fuss only when someone died.