The first photobook by Fumio Iwaki, who keeps photographing the same person in the same room. Turning the pages of these composed yet somehow strange portraits one by one, we cannot follow any kind of story: a triangle (san-kaku) left hanging in mid-air. The volume and presence of the subject always occupy a definite position in space, the triangle of composition; and yet what is it that does not settle into a triangle, that does not converge into a form? The book conveys the almost comical struggle of facing a single person through photography. Touching on the strangeness of how we relate to others and live our daily lives, it leads somehow to the strangeness of love.