When creating this corduroy, we always had a picture of a wheat field in mind. The vast expanse of the wheat field. Wind ruffled the wheat which was so ripe that made stalks hanging low. At sunset, the red of the bright sunlight became thicker than daytime. The pale shade was soft and warm, and the field glowed with a golden color. The tip of an ear brushed my calf like a feather. It was just for a little while. The sun disappeared, leaving nothing seen in the darkness. There was only the sound of the rustling ears of wheat.
