A Child Walked By, Rolling A Metal

Maybe Vagueness Has Been Good For Me. The Word Means Two Different Things In Tokyo And Osaka, You Know. In Tokyo It Means Stupidity, But In Osaka They Talk About Vagueness In A Painting And In A Game Of Go.

The Sound Of The Freezing Of Snow Over The Land Seemed To Roar Deep Into The Earth. There Was No Moon. The Stars, Almost Too Many Of Them To Be True, Came Forward So Brightly That It Was As If They Were Falling With The Swiftness Of The Void. As The Stars Came Nearer, The Sky Retreated Deeper And Deeper Into The Night Color. The Layers Of The Border Range, Indistinguishable One From Another, Cast Their Heaviness At The Skirt Of The Starry Sky In A Blackness Grave And Somber Enough To Communicate Their Mass. The Whole Of The Night Scene Came Together In A Clear, Tranquil Harmony.

But, Drawn To Her At That Moment, He Felt A Quiet Like The Voice Of The Rain Flow Over Him. He Knew Well Enough That For Her It Was In Fact No Waste Of Effort, But Somehow The Final Determination That It Was Had The Effect Of Distilling And Purifying The Woman's Existence.

Lunatics Have No Age. If We Were Crazy, You And I, We Might Be A Great Deal Younger.

The Woman Was Silent, Her Eyes On The Floor. Shimamura Had Come To A Point Where He Knew He Was Only Parading His Masculine Shamelessness, And Yet It Seemed Likely Enough That The Woman Was Familiar With The Failing And Need Not Be Shocked By It. He Looked At Her. Perhaps It Was The Rich Lashes Of The Downcast Eyes That Made Her Face Seem Warm And Sensuous. She Shook Her Head Very Slightly, And Again A Faint Blush Spread Over Her Face.