At one time, I felt the sensation that a big whole hole had opened in my chest.
From a young age, there were always lots of blue buckets full of glazes in the garden as my father was a potter.
When I was feeling very depressed, I thought of my heart as an empty bucket with nothing inside.
This work has a crack in the bottom.
Looking back now, I compare the persistent gloominess in the heart and the continuing depression to trying to store water in a broken bucket.
I was unable to keep the kindness from everyone in my heart.