They Stuck A Microphone In The Soil, And This Is What They Heard (With Edward Norton's Help)

One day, a Japanese photographer operating under the name Yusa Film walked up to a young family sitting on a bench with an unusual proposition: take this disposable camera, shoot whatever you want for a few days, and I'll turn your photos into a video. The couple, who were with their two-year-old son, Tsuntsun, happily agreed.

"Do we get the camera for free?" the dad asked cheekily. Then he added, "Will you also pay for developing?"

"Of course," Film replied.

What came back encapsulated more than mere snapshots of daily life. Along with the developed film, each parent wrote a heartfelt letter to their son, sharing anecdotes about watching him grow up and how much they loved him. Film stitched it all together beautifully into a TikTok video that's now been watched 3.4 million times, mostly by people trying to hold back tears at their desks.

But maybe that's just me.

An enchanting week that changed everything

Film does this professionally. His channel is full of videos like this: finding interesting subjects, handing them a disposable camera, asking them to record their lives for a few days, then turning the results into a wonderful tapestry that captures the beauty of daily life's mundanity.

In another touching video, he approaches a young couple wearing high school uniforms and unravels a deep, heartfelt letter of adoration overflowing with the magnificence of budding love.

A different video, boasting 1.4 million views on TikTok, finds Film approaching a young couple at Tokyo Disneyland and asking them to document their day at the park. Amid funny photos in Minnie Mouse ears and candid mid-bite shots, a larger picture emerges: one of infatuation and puppy love.

"I hope they last forever and are forever in love!" one commenter wrote.

"Is this the amusement park arc of every romance anime?" another commenter asked.

Film's videos follow a similar format and script. It goes something like this: find two strangers. Ask them if they're a couple. If yes, proceed by asking them to document their lives with a disposable camera in hand. Get to know them through a few generic questions. What are your names? How do you know each other?

In the case of the young family, this mini-interview yields tremendous quotes about raising a child, reflecting on their own youth, and the meaning of family.

Tsuntsun and his family. Credit: Yusa Film

After Film asks Tsuntsun's parents if they've noticed anything new since his birth, the father replies:

"I often think, we don't really remember much before 5 years old, right? But raising a child, [now] I can imagine it. When he won't sleep at night, and I'm up at 2 or 3 A.M., so tired, I suddenly think, 'maybe I was cared for like this too.' I could imagine myself being rocked to sleep by my mom and dad. I realized that was the love I had received."

The photos that captured millions of hearts

Tsuntsun's family's camera roll is imperfectly perfect. There are blurry photos and candid shots taken by Mom, Dad, or little Tsuntsun, along with delightful snapshots of daily family life.

A picnic in the park on a beautiful day. Tsuntsun plays with Legos, driving a toy car atop a building. The family bundles up, preparing to head out into the biting cold. A father reads aloud to his child.

A family picnic. Credit: Yusa Film

This video, along with Film's channel, works because it revolves around something simple: paying attention. In life, we remember the big moments: birthdays, proposals, births, and deaths. But what about the small ones? Rainy days spent inside, watching your toddler take an afternoon nap, the way a child's tiny hand feels in yours as you walk to school. Life moves quickly, and these tiny moments that make up our lives are soon forgotten.

A disposable camera allowed Tsuntsun's family to slow down and capture the small stuff that vanishes far too quickly.

Disposable cameras have a strange discipline. You get a finite number of shots, and that's it. No deleting, no do-overs, no scrolling through a camera roll to pick the best angle. Point the lens, then cross your fingers.

"I got a disposable camera when I was in Japan and tried it here in Montreal, and interestingly, discovered that [analog photography] is related to the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi," remarks a photography enthusiast online named Toshiki Yukawa.

Even in Japan, the concept of wabi-sabi is notoriously hard to pin down. Essentially, it's an "idea that places great value on incompleteness and imperfection." But perhaps the simplest definition of wabi-sabi comes from an unexpected source of inspiration: Bobby Hill, from the show King of the Hill.

In a clip that's gone viral, Hill explains to his father why his roses, while not perfect, still retain a simple elegance.

"I like how mine's a little off-center, it's got wabi-sabi," Hill says. "It's an Eastern tradition, Dad. It's celebrating the beauty in what's flawed, like the crack in the Liberty Bell, or the mole on Cindy Crawford's face."

Similarly, disposable cameras—with their limited number of photos and the wait to see what was captured—contain an element of wabi-sabi. Their limitations create a beautiful pressure to truly see and appreciate moments as they happen. The family in Film's video couldn't rely on endless do-overs; they had to capture their authentic life as it unfolded, imperfections and all.

The profound impact of letters to children

Perhaps the most moving element of Film's video wasn't just the photographs, but the letters the parents wrote to accompany them. From Tsuntsun's mother:

“Dear Tsun, We are amazed at how fast you're growing. Even though you're only two, your kindness already touches us. Keep chasing what you love, explore the world, and laugh a lot, just as you are. We love you so much! From, Mom”

A touching message. Credit: Yusa Film

Then, from his father:

“Dear Tsuntsun, You are the joy of our lives! I'm more excited to see how your story unfolds than to watch the final episode of One Piece! Whatever happens, always know you can come to us! From, Dad”

Photo from Dad. Credit: Yusa Film

When parents take time to write letters to their children, they're creating tangible expressions of love. Unlike conversations, which can be forgotten, misremembered, and distorted over time, letters provide physical evidence of parental affection that children can return to throughout their lives.

"Writing a letter to your child may seem like a small gesture, and it might not come naturally in the hustle of everyday life," writes Hannah Brencher, whose mother wrote her love letters growing up. "Now, as a mother myself, I understand why she did it. I understand the importance of handwriting notes and cards [for my daughter]—especially in an age where life is increasingly moving at a faster pace and everything is more digital."

Studies demonstrate that children who feel consistently loved and supported by their parents develop higher self-esteem and better emotional resilience. Writing letters becomes a powerful tool for communicating this support in a way that transcends the chaos of daily life.

Why this moment matters more than ever

In our hyperconnected digital age, families often struggle to truly be present with each other. Film's experiment offers a refreshing alternative: intentional, mindful documentation and communication that prioritize connection over perfection and quality over quantity.

The resulting photos aren't staged Instagram moments. Instead, they reveal family life in all its messy, beautiful glory. The slight blur of a child in motion, the imperfect overhead lighting of a breakfast scene, the candid laughter caught mid-moment: these "flaws" are actually what make the images so powerfully moving.

Tsuntsun and his mother. Credit: Yusa Film

Judging by the comments, viewers couldn't agree more:

"Oh, Tsuntsun, you are so loved."

"This is the most wholesome thing I've ever seen."

Film's video reminds us that our most ordinary days contain perfectly imperfect moments—and extraordinary love. Sometimes, all it takes is a simple camera and the courage to document moments as they happen: the beautiful, imperfect, irreplaceable moments that make up life.