The Impressionists loved to paint bright, cheerful scenes of human life, an outdoor world of picnics and dances and caf├ęs and fields, playing with natural colours that shift with light. For them, light was the joy of life, a palette of pleasures. But for me now, all I see in that light is the melancholy that it displaces and the gloom that lies beneath it. What on earth have I seen up until now? I could see nothing.

Iwaki Kei, Farewell, My Orange, translation by Meredith McKinney