もし生まれ変わったら、モンゴルの草原あたりに落ちている小石になりたい。
誰とも一言も喋らなくてもいい。
日中は澄み渡った青空を眺め、夜は満天の星を眺める。
それを地球滅亡の日まで、滅亡の瞬間まで続けたい。
男は常々そう思っている。
人と話すことに疲れたわけではない。
ただ、言葉というものがあまりにも複雑で、ひどく厄介に思えるのだ。
言葉を尽くせば尽くすほど誤解は生まれ、心は遠ざかる。
それならばいっそ、小石になってしまったほうがいい。
しかし、現実には彼は人間として生まれてしまった。
それも、東京の片隅で、何十年も働き続ける凡庸な男として。
彼は決して不幸ではなかった。
定職があり、決まった時間に出勤し、給料をもらい、週末にはビールを飲む。
たまに旅行をし、親しい友人と笑い合うこともある。
けれど、心のどこかではいつも風に吹かれる小石の夢を見ていた。
ある日、彼は仕事を辞めた。
特に理由があったわけではない。
ただ、会社を出た帰り道、ふと「もういいか」と思ったのだ。
そのまま帰宅し、荷物をまとめ、数日後には飛行機に乗っていた。
向かう先はモンゴル。
草原は想像よりも広く、静かだった。
風が吹き、雲が流れ、遠くで羊の群れが動いている。
彼は草の上に寝転がり、青空を見上げた。
――もし生まれ変われるのなら。
彼はポケットから小石を取り出し、それを掌の上で転がした。
それは日本のどこかの川辺で拾ったものだった。
夜になると、満天の星が瞬いていた。
彼はそっと目を閉じ、小石を草原の上に置いた。
風が吹き、彼の頬を撫でる。
彼はそのまま、静かに眠った。
翌朝、彼の姿はどこにもなかった。
ただ、草の上に一つの小石が転がっているだけだった。
If I were to be reborn, I would want to be a small stone lying somewhere in the Mongolian grasslands.
I wouldn't have to speak a single word to anyone.
During the day, I would gaze at the clear blue sky, and at night, I would watch the countless stars.
I would do this until the end of the world, until the very moment of its destruction.
The man often thought this way.
It wasn’t that he was tired of talking to people.
It was just that words seemed far too complicated, unbearably troublesome.
The more he tried to use them, the more misunderstandings arose, and the further hearts drifted apart.
If that was the case, then perhaps it would be better to become a stone.
But in reality, he had been born as a human.
A perfectly ordinary man working for decades in a corner of Tokyo.
He wasn’t unhappy.
He had a steady job, commuted at the same time every day, received his paycheck, and drank beer on the weekends.
Sometimes he traveled, sometimes he laughed with close friends.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, he always dreamed of being a stone carried by the wind.
One day, he quit his job.
There wasn’t any particular reason.
He was simply walking home from work when the thought struck him—
“That’s enough.”
So he went home, packed his belongings, and within a few days, he was on a plane.
His destination: Mongolia.
The grasslands were wider and quieter than he had imagined.
The wind blew, the clouds drifted, and in the distance, a herd of sheep moved slowly.
He lay down on the grass and looked up at the sky.
—If only I could be reborn.
He took a small stone from his pocket and rolled it around in his palm.
It was one he had picked up somewhere along a riverbank in Japan.
At night, the sky was filled with countless stars.
He gently closed his eyes and placed the stone on the grass.
The wind blew softly, brushing against his cheek.
He fell asleep peacefully.
By morning, he was gone.
Only a small stone lay there on the grass, as if it had always been there.
