Nara, Japan

After lunch, my grandfather's daikon wilts on the table. Harvested days ago, it waits to be cleaned. But even the chopsticks from today's lunch demand too much effort to be laid neatly across the bowl as they used to. What used to be bright, boundless energy has set to a fading glow. I think this photo captures more than an empty bowl. Rather, a silent shift that comes with aging.