Having to worry about whether someone is healthy enough to tolerate my fierce hatred or criticism before I decide to blame them – that’s what I call getting old.
The number of kiwis was increasing by the minute. When I looked about me, there were dozens of them, all identical, and each one fired off a question to me in turn.
I felt a sudden rush of warmth in my body, and felt the tears well up once again. But I didn’t cry. It’s always better to drink than to cry.
How could anyone endure such a state, of having someone there and not there – not there and there – at the same time?
In loneliness I have drifted this long way, alone. My torn and shabby robe could not keep out the cold. And tonight the sky was so clear it made my heart ache all the more.
When you get old and long-sighted, you can’t look your sweetheart in the eye from close up. You need a little distance, so that you can focus on each other. So that your faces don’t look blurry- anyway, you need a little distance.
No, little boys are much wimpier than little girls.
I, on the other hand, still might not be considered a proper grown-up. I had been very much the adult when I was in elementary school. But as I continued on through junior high and high school, on the contrary, I became less grown-up. And then as the years passed, I turned into quite a childlike person. I suppose I just wasn’t able to ally myself with time.
Everything felt so far away.
It grows because you plant it.
Physical intimacy is essential. No matter how old are you, it’s extremely important.
Those nights, I open Sensei’s briefcase and peer inside. The blank empty space unfolds, containing nothing within. It holds nothing more than an expanse of desolate absence.
I kissed the girl on the lips, as if to suck her breath inside me. When I did this, the girl wilted, ever so slightly. In my arms, gradually she became lighter, and more transparent. The smell of lilies rose up, filling my breast, overwhelming me. The taste of the kiss was so sweet, I couldn’t stop–even thoughI knew she would go on wilting if I continued. The girl was wilting by the instant, and something thick and strong was filling my breast.
I had a habit of acting as though I were having a conversation with someone beside me – with the me who was not really right there beside me – as if to validate these random effervescences.
El cuerpo y la mente son inseparables, una misma cosa.
That was quite a discovery for me, the fact that arbitrary kindness makes me uncomfortable, but that being treated fairly feels good.
Up until now, I thought I had enjoyed my life alone, somehow.
What is love, really? People have the right to fall in love, but not the right to be loved. I fell in love with Nishino, but that’s not to say that he was then required to fall in love with me.
I could imagine Toko’s life story – she would fall perfectly in love with a guy, marry him, have children, then they would have her grandchildren and eventually she would die peacefully, surrounded by those children and grandchildren. My life story would probably play out quite a bit differently. The man I loved and children too might very well appear at some point, but their arrival would perhaps be strange and unexpected, and then again, they might never materialize at all.
We were always sincere with each other. Even when we were joking around, we were sincere.