A single song stretched into a complete emotional moment. Mayumi Kojima animated what she wrote, and you feel it in every frame, there's no distance between the voice and the hand that drew it. The kind of thing you return to when you need to remember what quiet joy sounds like.
A child releases a red balloon into the sky, watching it drift higher and higher until it vanishes among the clouds. What follows is a meditation on letting go, rendered in soft watercolor aesthetics and paired with Mayumi Kojima's gentle vocal performance. The animation captures that bittersweet moment when something precious slips from your hands, whether by choice or circumstance, and you're left standing below, gazing upward. The piece moves through seasons and memories, building a quiet emotional resonance that lingers. The simplicity of the concept belies the depth Kojima brings to her directorial vision: each frame feels deliberate, each color choice intentional. This is animation as poetry, where a single balloon becomes a vessel for feelings about impermanence, childhood wonder, and the necessity of release. Perfect for quiet evenings when you want something that speaks to your heart without demanding much of your time, yet leaves you thinking long after it ends.