Why is the walk home from a public bath so utterly sweet? The pleasant breeze cooling down a flushed body. Lightly scented shampoo on skin that feels clean and smooth. Unable to resist, buying an ice cream at the convenience store and strolling back along the short path to the house with a gentle, swaying gait. Somehow, the world looks exceptionally bright. A magic must surely be cast upon the walk home from the sento.

When I was twenty-nine, an unexpected turn of events led me to move from Tokyo to Kyoto. Because it was a sudden relocation, there was no time to look for an apartment, so for the time being, I brought a mattress into a rented office and began sleeping there. Compared to my life in Tokyo, it was in no way inferior, but there was one thing that was different: it had no bath. Consequently, I ended up going to a local sento. That was Ishidayu.

I would step through the noren curtain illuminated by the lanterns. I became well acquainted with the old lady sitting at the bandai counter; when she saw my face, she would smile warmly and we would strike up a casual conversation: "Welcome, young man." Then, saying "Good night," I would set off on my way home. Such days felt entirely fresh to me.

After a full year of going to the sento, I rented a residential apartment along the Kamo River. Soon after, I started an orchard in Yoshino, Nara, which meant I hardly ever went to Ishidayu anymore. However, when I visited Ishidayu one day for the first time in several months, the moment the lady at the counter saw my face, she said, "Oh, welcome home, young man." She added, "I've been waiting for you all this time." At that moment, I felt that this city had become a place to which I could always return.

On days when something happy happened, and on days when something frustrating happened, I always soaked in the sento's tub at the end of the day. For me, my memories of Kyoto are tied first and foremost to Ishidayu. That is why, even if I should come to live in a city far away from Kyoto in the future, if I suddenly picture Ishidayu, I will always be able to recall those innocent, fresh days when I first started living in Kyoto. And in my heart, the voice of the lady at the counter will speak to me: "Whenever you grow tired from your new journey, you can always come to take a bath." It is precisely because people have a place to return to that they can spread their wings and fly far away.