Last summer, when I was on a red-eye flight from Nepal to Thailand, I saw a strange sight from the window.
Shortly after taking off from Kathmandu, I glanced outside and noticed a glowing orange line drawn with intricate meandering curves, and stretching far into the distance. It was so bright that it outshone all the lights from surrounding residences, making them even appear faint in comparison. As I gazed blankly at this endless stream of light, before I knew it, the airplane was flying over the vast Ganges delta.
Later, I learned it was a line of floodlights illuminating the India–Bangladesh border. Remarkably, high-power floodlights span 1,000 kilometers of the over 4,000-kilometer-long border between the two countries. Barbed-wire fences and barricade walls that were built to prevent illegal immigration and cross-border terrorism form an irrevocable divide between the two nations.
National boundaries are not just lines drawn on a map. They exist in the real world in a tangible form, with a precision that makes them seem as if they were traced directly from a map.

But what exactly does a border separate?

Tribhuvan International Airport was crowded with people from all walks of life, and I couldn’t tell the difference between people from India and Bangladesh. Each person was simply spending time in their own way, but each waiting for the moment they could board.
The world is a collection of many different countries and regions, with a tapestry of diverse histories and cultures. Languages, religions, and ways of thinking also vary greatly. Despite their differences, they overlap and intermingle; they expand and shrink, are gradational, and fluid.
What I’ve witnessed is not a set of disparities, but rather, the complexity and ambiguity of the world itself.
Today, in our pursuit of truth, certainty, or righteousness, we inevitably encounter the paradox of impossibility. This is because, in our turbid world, we are constantly letting something slip through our fingers.

When we define one thing, we discard something else. What overflows, what escapes, what resists neat categorization is laid bare. In fact, the very notion of a border—which is drawn to demarcate and classify—only serves to underscore this impossibility.
That searing light I saw from the sky is burned into my mind. It continues to remind me to keep my eye on this paradox—and never to look away.

Miki Sato