As the cable car slowly ascended, the world outside the window gradually sank below. First, the rows of hotel rooftops appeared, then the lakeside road stretched out like a gray ribbon. Lake Kawaguchi below slowly revealed its full form—no longer just a glimmer of water, but a vast, warm, lustrous piece of jade, carefully cradled in the palm of the surrounding dark green mountains. The moment the cable car passed the treetops, Mount Fuji appeared.
It was there, as if it had always been. The snow-capped peak that had required so much effort to look up from the lakeside was now almost level with my eyes. The clouds moved quickly, casting flowing shadows on the conical mountain, and the outline of the snow trembled slightly between the light and shadow, like a long, frozen sigh. At the foot of the mountain, the "Fuji Five Lakes" are like scattered mirrors, with Lake Kawaguchi being the brightest, reflecting the sky and the shadows of the mountains, as well as our slowly moving gondola—we look at the mountains, and the mountains also see themselves in its clear pupils.