Most people didn’t notice her.
They walked past, eyes skimming the glowing blue portal before them, mesmerised by the slow, hypnotic pulse of jellyfish. A giant circular tank, illuminated in shifting shades of blue, green, and violet, dominated the darkened room. The creatures drifted, suspended in time, as if listening to some celestial rhythm beyond human comprehension.
The music, delicate and haunting, filled the space. Pachelbel’s Canon, played with precision and grace. A piece so familiar it had been worn smooth by time and overuse. Yet here, in this setting, it felt different.
I sat in the dim glow, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. My attention shifted from the circling jellyfish to the woman at the piano, then to the passing crowds. The pianist, dressed in a formal black suit, played without fanfare, without expectation. Fingers moving with quiet certainty, she filled the space with sound, yet remained unseen.
The visitors did not turn to see her. They did not pause to acknowledge the human effort behind the music. It drifted past them, assumed to be a recording, just another programmed element of the aquarium’s atmosphere.
The jellyfish continued their slow, endless dance.
Whether they responded to the sound or simply followed their own unknowable rhythm, it was impossible to say. They pulsed, translucent bodies catching the shifting light, forming patterns that hinted at something ancient and deliberate. They had been here before us. They would be here long after.
Kamo Aquarium, in Japan’s Yamagata Prefecture, is famous for its jellyfish. Hundreds of them float in quiet tanks, their alien beauty preserved in artificial oceans. They are hypnotic, serene, and utterly indifferent to human presence.
Other creatures here are not so fortunate. In another section, the seals pace and turn in enclosures too small for their restless energy. Their eyes, sharp and knowing, track visitors with an awareness absent in the drifting jellyfish.
Here, in this darkened room, a woman plays for an audience that does not know she exists. For creatures that do not applaud.
Perhaps that is the point.
A concert without ego, music without expectation. Just the steady pulse of an instrument and the slow movement of ancient life forms, lost in the quiet hum of existence.
