An Artist of the Floating World

by Kazuo Ishiguro

‘Why, not at all, Sensei. I’m most grateful you should take such an interest in my work.’ ‘But it’s only natural I should take interest. You are my most accomplished pupil. I have invested years nurturing your talent.’ ‘Of course, Sensei. I cannot begin to estimate what I owe you.’ Neither of us spoke for a few moments, while I continued to light lanterns. Then I paused and said: ‘I am very relieved no harm has come to my paintings. I should have known there was some simple explanation of this kind. I can now put my mind at rest.’ Mori-san said nothing to this, and from what I could make of his silhouette, he did not take his eyes from the view. It occurred to me he had not heard me, so I said a little more loudly: ‘I am glad I can put my mind at rest regarding the safety of my paintings.’ ‘Yes, Ono,’ Mori-san said, as though startled out of some far-away thoughts. ‘I had a little spare time on my hands. So I had someone go and fetch me your recent work.’ ‘It was foolish of me to have worried. I’m glad the paintings are safe.’ He did not speak for some time so that I again thought he had not heard me. But then he said: ‘I was a little surprised by what I saw. You seem to be exploring curious avenues.’