There are three men I admire. One is the writer Ernest Hemingway, another is Jiro Shirasu, the so-called “man of the wind.” If I were a man like them, I think, that’s the kind of life I would want to live. Come to think of it, Masako Shirasu and I once had plans to create a book together about traditional Japanese folk houses. It never materialized because she was already elderly. And the third person I admire is Mr. Miyawaki. I feel fortunate that, through chairs, I was able to build a close friendship with someone I admired so deeply. He even visited my apartment in Asahikawa before I built my house in Higashikagura. He arrived stylishly, wearing a red scarf that his daughter had given him for his sixtieth birthday celebration. I remember driving him around in my beloved Bugatti at the time. I sent him yamabe trout that I had caught myself, and our friendship continued. Ah yes — there was also the time at Santouka ramen when we became so engrossed in conversation that we did not eat our ramen, and the owner scolded us for being too loud (laughs).