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Fuujin Monogatari, or Windy Tales, in English, is a great collection of tales about... The time.
The wind, used as an allegory to the passage of time, gently follows its course without caring about what it leaves behind, as Nano.ripe sang in Nanairo Biyori.
Even those who try (and well, succeed) to control the wind, find themselves victims of its ungovernable freedom in the next few moments.

Spoilers ahead:

The Wind Cat in episode 1.
Which sums up exactly what the anime wants to show.
For the cat, the freedom of the wind is immeasurable. He goes with the flow, as free as air.
When Ryoko discovers that it is possible to ... CONTROL the wind, at first wrong impression we think that it would be possible to have it at will.
It soon becomes clear that it is not.

The Wind Village in episode 2.
Where time has passed for everyone. People have grown up, aged, gone (from the village or the world), but the wind festival does not stop.
Even though they are wind controllers, they are the controlled ones who, from year to year, need to be there for the festival.
Here we have a slightly more intense perspective on the freedom of the wind.

Atsuko in episode 3.
Perhaps she was the one who most understood this "freedom" in the entire anime.
She ran. Nonstop.
And when someone tried to capture her movement (even in a photo), it was an ALMOST impossible job.
It was enough for Nao and Miki to let themselves be carried away by the rhythm of the wind for everything to be fine.

Donguri in episode 4.
The simplest example. Taught to fly, taught freedom, he's gone.
Stuck only by his instincts, the squirrel found someone who respected his will to be free.

Makino in episode 5.
The teacher who just wanted to do things his way, ironically, just like the wind.
But because he wasn't wind, because he wasn't free, he could be controlled.
And controlled, he sought escapism, any crevice through which he could escape.
But, unfortunately for him, adult life, the job, are more restrictive than any environment the wind can blow.

The kids in episode 6.
Which show the passage of time in the clearest way:
They lost their powers because they lost the wind in their hearts.
Childhood is over.

Ryoko in episode 7.
That in love with Taiki, she saw a typhoon brewing in her life.
An uncontrollable typhoon, an unchanging feeling.

The former member of the club and Jun in episode 8.
Who shared time together in the past and now, in an almost destined reunion, find themselves attached to their own winds.
Jun doesn't want to be free anymore: he wants to be tied to Miki.
And the former club member realizes how time, like the wind, has changed what was once right for her.

Nao's parents in episode 9.
The father in search of a belated freedom, left behind a long time ago.
The mother in search of security, control, understanding how unstoppable the will of the wind can be.

Nao and Miki in episode 10.
Seeing Earth's last day in them glimpses.
A beautiful episode, by the way. Full of signs, interpretations and... wind.
The view at the end was over the snow. Another ungovernable natural force.
In this episode I would be Ryoko.

Karin in episode 11.
Watching time and the wind go by while chasing your dreams.
The envy Karin feels is just a breeze. Nothing capable of clashing with the powerful wind of her desire to be an idol.

The old woman in episode 12.
Who has already experienced many different winds and now seeks only a memory of a wind that was in the past.

And Yukio and Taiki in episode 13.
Who say goodbye in the middle of the wind. Each one going their own way.
As well as Miki, Nao, Ryoko and Jun. Now adults, with the wind never having left their lives.

I'm really glad I watched this anime.
Unique visuals, excellent dialogues.
It passed like the wind through me. Always leaving a mark.

First, I see Suiiki as a story about how ephemeral life can be, about how certainties can be overturned given enough time (or money), and about how the past is a story, the future is a mystery, and the present is a gift, and that's why we call it "present". (Phrase directly from Kung fu Panda)

We see the part about life being ephemeral with all the supernatural and spiritual stuff involving Sumio and the supposed dragon god.
Sumio was a child, but he passed away, leaving his parents only hope that one day they could meet again.
It was a simple slip-up (almost literally) and Sumio was ... no more.

We see the part about certainties when the people of the village, aware of the construction of the dam, unite and say with conviction that they will not give up. That they will fight to the end.
But we live in a world where certainties, made of steel, are overturned by paper. Paper that has a value capable of making any human being give up his home, where he has lived all his life, as long as it means giving his family a better future.

And talking about the future, we come to the maxim about time.
The mangaka masterfully treats readers to experience the same as Chinami, the protagonist:
At first we were confused about the past, about history, in the same way that Chinami was. Where she was? Who was that boy? Why was it raining non-stop in the middle of a dry season?
Over time we understood that that place was what the future held for us. The mysteries were all there, ready to be solved. With death, perhaps we could inhabit that place forever.
But before that, we needed to live the present. The present where the gift of finding something dear, lost for a long time, made living continue to make sense.
And it is in the figure of Kiyoko, Chinami's grandmother, confusing the reality of the present with the history of the past, that both Chinami and us, readers, realize that all that still lives in the inhabitants of the village.
And so, we ended up nostalgic, as if we had lived there too.

A great collection of stories about time. About a complete life cycle.

The first story talks about life. About what it's like to be alive. From an intriguing perspective, seeing her life predicted and controlled by supposedly harmless objects, "toys", as they are called, the protagonist questions herself about what it means to be alive.
Are your memories and your personality what represent your being? Is your existence defined and destined and cannot be manipulated no matter how hard you try?

The second story talks about time. About how human life is limited and everything comes to an end one day, even what is "eternal". The protagonist's sanity ... is tested in a world in which, without time running by her side, she is forced to create "hobbies" (which, in Portuguese, has an even more ironic meaning, since "hobbie" in Portuguese is "Passatempo", literally "pass-time").
Living the equivalent of infinite lifetimes and seeing all there is to be seen in the world it was inevitable that at some point she would see herself from the past. What happens in forms of tears left there millions of years ago.
That was my favorite story regarding art and paneling.

The third story talks about eternity. This time time did not stop for the world, only for the existence of those curious beings known as Kingyo no Ningyo.
Immortality, for them, does not have a price, since they have no idea that they are immortal.
They also have no idea they're alive to begin with. Therefore, they cannot have a notion of what death means.
They have no concept of time. They have no sense of home. They have no concept of interpersonal relationships.
And since they don't have these notions and concepts, when humanity is gone and only they are left on the planet, these concepts cease to exist.
Eternity is cruel to those who are alive. But were they even alive in the first place?

And the fourth story concludes the cycle by talking about death.
The death that changes everything, but at the same time ties up all the loose ends of a story.
It no longer matters what someone did or didn't do when they're dead.
And if you met someone who died and you could see that person again in 1000 years, they would still be the same as they were when they were alive. Because death changes things, but it is also eternal.

If time travel were possible, would we be like the protagonist of the first story, who found several destinations and alternative realities and in the end ended up questioning her own life?
Or would we be like the protagonist of the second story, who, having time on her hands, went mad 58 times (as far as she can remember) and ended up finding herself trapped in infinity?
Or perhaps we would be like the goldfish sirens, who set aside the basics of existence because eternity renders them irrelevant.
Or else we could be like the protagonist of the final story, who, seeing a bleak future, tried to change it, but discovered that the only thing capable of changing the future is death.

I like Youkai, folklore and mythology, and all of that contributed a lot to my experience. Honorable mention for my countryman Igpupiara, a monster of Brazilian folklore, who made his debut in volume 5.
Takeo-chan starts off as a fun manga. A story about an unlucky little girl. At first it may seem like a simple plot, funny most of the time, without much depth, but even the simplest chapters have something more.
The chapters evolve, grow and change tone along with the protagonist. While at first she is just a goofy character beset by unimaginable catastrophes resolved with good humor, the manga also presents itself as ... just something goofy.
As she grows as a character and gains new personality traits, however, the writing of the manga also grows, having some key points that, for me, mark the moments when I liked Takeo-chan the most:
First in volume 2, when she mistakenly ends up in the Underworld, where she learns that thanking is just as important as apologizing. It is from here that youkai begin to have more relevance in the manga, as if, following the protagonist's story, we started to see them in other ways.
Second, in volume 3, when Takeo's grandmother dies. It's definitely the saddest point in the manga, but it's represented in such a light way that I was happy to see the old woman dead. And from here on Takeo became much more self-aware and the manga started to present situations in which she was the only focus and was able to act for herself and no longer just for others.
And third, in volumes 5 and 6, which contain some simpler stories outside the central plot (all relevant anyway). And this culminates at the end of volume 6, which for me is the most symbolic and meaningful part of the entire manga, with Takeo realizing that she is becoming an ordinary human. All the experiences she's had (and that we read about) have freed her from the despair and mischief that haunted her all her life. So it's normal that she was living more normal situations.

Takeo-chan has, for me, three big positives besides the story, which I've already guaranteed to unravel in the previous points:
The art, the ability to take completely random subjects to heart, and the variety.
-The art of elements such as water, fire, smoke, clouds and nature in general, especially in the backgrounds, in Ukiyo-e style, is simply beautiful. The manga makes masterful use of large panels and double pages. I made a folder of prints from the manga, of pages that I thought were amazing.
-The manga has chapters focused on specific subjects, such as cooking. And the way the author seems to have researched all these subjects in depth and puts relevant information, both in the dialogues and in the narration, makes each chapter unique and interesting, regardless of what is being treated.
-And the variety, both of subjects and characters, makes the story never monotonous or tiresome. Takeo-chan has at least one chapter for every taste. It has at least one character for every taste. The variety of characters ranges from a crossdresser Takuni who uses his scrotum as a picnic blanket to a sexually harassing Western vampire who has 83 wives (one being a man). And all are well written.

The ending is satisfying. Seeing such a well-told story end in such a pleasant way is a delightful.

Shiroi Suna no Aquatope is MID.
Where "M" stands for Mystic, which would be great for an anime that talks about the ocean and all the magic involved in the unknown depths... I say it WOULD be great, because the show forgets about the mystical side it has for half the episodes . Scenes involving mysticism only appear when it is convenient for the anime to be a tearjerker.
Where "I" stands for Informative, and that was, without a doubt, my favorite part of the show. All the technical conversations about fish and other sea creatures, as well as climate issues and species extinction, were very well ... presented in the anime. Too bad it's the smallest part.
And where "D" stands for Drama. And what a cheap drama... At first the story was interesting, but the drama became so poor and repetitive that I lost interest in that part. The resolutions became all too obvious. The shallow personality of the characters doesn't help in the slightest to develop a good story. Most supporting characters have a single personality trait. There is a character whose personality boils down to "fish". He only appears to make puns or comparisons with fish.
In short, Aquatope is not bad. If the anime had ended in episode 12, it would have made better use of what was good, especially the protagonists, who are good characters and develop an interesting relationship in this first half. Unfortunately, in the second half, the quality of both the script and the production drops a lot. Wasted potential of a slice of life that had everything to be great.

Chikyuu Bouei Kazoku did everything it set out to do well.
The portrayal of a dysfunctional family is so cruelly well done that it hurts to remind me of all the times my own family acted that way.
In the first few episodes we see Seiko, the mother figure furthest from perfection, saying that she should have abandoned her son. Conflicts develop and, between disappointments and mutual understanding, we have this relationship veering a little towards the right direction in the end.
Mamoru, the father who doesn't give security to anyone in the family, spends the entire anime showing he accepts how pathetic he himself is. His most ... brave scene being to defend an alien who was the only existence that valued him (for his own interests), shows how desperate he is for recognition. Poor man.
Until the end, Nozomi remained the figure most aware of his duties in the family and, perhaps because of that, the one who suffered the most at the hands of others. She is clearly the pillar of support for this family. If there's anything preventing everything from falling apart, it's her. And I feel like she doesn't do it for others, but for herself.
And finally we have Dai... A child who only wants to be a child when it suits. At certain points he appears to be extremely mature and sensible, taking the lead and deciding for the family what to do while they fight. In other situations, he goes back to being a naughty child who lifts the teacher's skirt and throws a tantrum because he didn't get what he wanted. Dai has a giant development, without ever ceasing to be himself. A great character, overall.
In the end, we have an anime that mixes the concerns of a conventionally dysfunctional family and the concerns of superheroes, who dedicate their time and effort to save the Planet.
And then, with all these personality problems, episode 10 arrives, showing that this dysfunctional family is literally saving the planet, but they don't have any recognition for it on a day-to-day basis. People are fans of the "superhumans" who defend Earth, but not fans of the Daichi family. Seiko seeks recognition in an extramarital relationship, Mamoru, who only wanted recognition for himself, enters an anxiety loop and can't get out of the place. Nozomi, who doesn't even have the recognition of her own family, seems to be the most used to it, but begins, cathartically, to throw responsibilities away and Dai shows that despite seeming not to care about anything, he still has feelings.
The comic time, fundamental for an anime like this, which aims to be funny while showing real problems, was masterfully used from start to finish. The jokes presented in different ways, making good use of the production, have a whole charm, being specific to each character in focus. Fortunately most of the necessary information was tied up, giving the show a decent ending: In the end, they finally managed to beat a monster without owing money. Now just pay off the debt of approximately 500 million Yen and they can quit their job.

Haibane Renmei is captivating. A story told with care and proficiency by someone who certainly wanted his viewers to hold on to the world he created.
I'm easily captivated by stories like this, so maybe I'm being biased, but the imagination behind Haibane Renmei's entire universe is fantastic.
Much of my experience, it should be noted, was thanks to the magnificent work of the sound direction. Intense moments of silence, turned in the mood only with an abrupt cut in music or voice, ambient sound masterfully placed to pass, even without words (or even without images at some points), everything that the scene wants to present. I ... already know several of Sound Director's works, but I can say that, apart from Hinamatsuri, this was my favorite.
And to finish very well, the whole biblical metaphor of the Cornerstone, which I already expected to happen since episode 1, turned out to be even more explored than I thought it would be. I needed to read the 20 page One-shot focused on Reki right after finishing the anime, because I wanted to know more about her.
I wanted more. I wanted more stories, more depth, more of this universe. If there were more, it could easily be one of my favorites.