I stumbled across this phrase in a tiny, dust-scented bookstore in Shimokitazawa, Tokyo. I was flipping through a used essay collection by a photographer named Hideko Nakajima. She wasn’t famous. Her book was about photographing the same river for five years.
The negative form of the verb shiru (知る), meaning "to know." It explicitly designates a gap in knowledge or a state of unfamiliarity.
Embracing the Unknown: The Beauty of Shiranai Koto Shiritai Koto shiranai koto shiritai koto
The desiderative form of shiru , translating directly to "want to know." It transforms a neutral verb into a state of active yearning or curiosity.
The storyline centers on a young protagonist who temporarily inherits his grandfather’s scale model and hobby shop after the elder falls ill. I stumbled across this phrase in a tiny,
When you actively seek out what you don’t know, you get comfortable with not knowing. You stop pretending. And that is freedom. The anxious grip of needing to be the expert loosens. You can say, “I don’t know—but I’d like to find out.” That sentence is a key to every locked door.
Let that be your whisper. Let that be your way. Her book was about photographing the same river
Curiosity, in the West, often feels like a tool. We are curious in order to succeed, innovate, or impress. Shiranai koto, shiritai koto has no goal beyond itself. It is curiosity as a way of being, not a means to an end.