Glimpses from Rusutsu
At the end of 2025, I took a trip to Rusutsu — a name I had never even heard before. Tucked away in Hokkaido, not far from the popular Niseko area, Rusutsu is well known among ski lovers, though it had never crossed my radar until then.
What I found there was something straight out of a childhood dream. Most of the houses were painted in soft pastel tones, and under the winter snow, the entire area looked like a storybook village — the kind we imagine as kids but rarely find in real life.
Everything felt different. Even the most ordinary things — the kind of objects or buildings you’d walk past without a second glance in Tokyo — looked completely new here. They felt like foreign artifacts I couldn’t take my eyes off. One moment especially stuck with me: a vending machine buried in snow up to an adult’s waist, standing quietly in front of what turned out to be a public toilet. When I saw it, I couldn’t stop smiling. I walked up to it, took a short video, and kept giggling like a kid. That exact moment became the cover for this mini zine — Glimpses from Rusutsu.
Thank you for supporting my work. I hope you enjoy this little collection, and maybe one day, you’ll find yourself in Rusutsu too — in the middle of winter, surrounded by quiet, color, and snow.
At the end of 2025, I took a trip to Rusutsu — a name I had never even heard before. Tucked away in Hokkaido, not far from the popular Niseko area, Rusutsu is well known among ski lovers, though it had never crossed my radar until then.
What I found there was something straight out of a childhood dream. Most of the houses were painted in soft pastel tones, and under the winter snow, the entire area looked like a storybook village — the kind we imagine as kids but rarely find in real life.
Everything felt different. Even the most ordinary things — the kind of objects or buildings you’d walk past without a second glance in Tokyo — looked completely new here. They felt like foreign artifacts I couldn’t take my eyes off. One moment especially stuck with me: a vending machine buried in snow up to an adult’s waist, standing quietly in front of what turned out to be a public toilet. When I saw it, I couldn’t stop smiling. I walked up to it, took a short video, and kept giggling like a kid. That exact moment became the cover for this mini zine — Glimpses from Rusutsu.
Thank you for supporting my work. I hope you enjoy this little collection, and maybe one day, you’ll find yourself in Rusutsu too — in the middle of winter, surrounded by quiet, color, and snow.
At the end of 2025, I took a trip to Rusutsu — a name I had never even heard before. Tucked away in Hokkaido, not far from the popular Niseko area, Rusutsu is well known among ski lovers, though it had never crossed my radar until then.
What I found there was something straight out of a childhood dream. Most of the houses were painted in soft pastel tones, and under the winter snow, the entire area looked like a storybook village — the kind we imagine as kids but rarely find in real life.
Everything felt different. Even the most ordinary things — the kind of objects or buildings you’d walk past without a second glance in Tokyo — looked completely new here. They felt like foreign artifacts I couldn’t take my eyes off. One moment especially stuck with me: a vending machine buried in snow up to an adult’s waist, standing quietly in front of what turned out to be a public toilet. When I saw it, I couldn’t stop smiling. I walked up to it, took a short video, and kept giggling like a kid. That exact moment became the cover for this mini zine — Glimpses from Rusutsu.
Thank you for supporting my work. I hope you enjoy this little collection, and maybe one day, you’ll find yourself in Rusutsu too — in the middle of winter, surrounded by quiet, color, and snow.
