Rucica, Flower Flower / No. 21 “Blue Skin, Warm Pulse.”

I started moving my brush without deliberately choosing a theme.

Sometimes, that happens when I'm working every day.

I surrender myself to my brush and my thoughts. Then, something "appears" suddenly, and from that point on,

it's as if that option was there from the beginning, and a different personality's thoughts start moving.

This one is paler than usual.

When the temperature of its skin seemed to lean "a little differently from a human's temperature,"

I suddenly overlaid my past self onto it.

This color gently dragged out the me from that time.

There was a period when emotions were certainly present,

but their outline touched nothing,

and my own body temperature somehow felt absent.

I worked to live,

came home, slept, and started again.

My feelings were certainly there,

but it was like a "machine pretending to have emotions."

Days continued where I observed my own movements objectively.

So I looked for light.

The faint light I felt was beyond a distant sea,

and the only distracting light I had in my hand vanished like a mirage.

Is it really this fleeting?

Even while despairing like a tragic heroine,

there was a part of me that accepted it incredibly easily.

Still, I lived relying only on the faint hope that remained and

an unfounded spiritual feeling that I had no choice but to believe in my future self.

My temperament for valuing the spiritual hasn't changed.

But those inorganic days are a thing of the past now.

I feel relieved, then anxious, then I see the light again.

Now, I can go and seek it out myself.

Can I go? I want to go. I have no choice but to go.

Now, there's a color I want.

There's a world I want to create, and

no matter how much I isolate myself,

if I look around, there are indeed "colored lights" that sometimes reach out to me from afar.

There is definite warmth in my palm.

TSUNOID is currently a character that is an "Android with room for various interpretations."

Will the day ever come when the boundary between humans and androids

truly becomes ambiguous?

Just as human skin and artificial skin can easily be mistaken for each other with a single change in lighting.

Should we fear that?

Even after going through an inorganic period, "my temperature" certainly returned, but

in the future, will humans be able to maintain genuine emotions?

The conflict of human feelings and

the struggle to protect one's body temperature,

like this color where blue and gold melt together,

coldness and warmth, inorganic and organic—

as something that breathes distinctly in that space—

what do I want you to feel from this Lusica?