I Will Think Of You Every Time

Couldn't The Wrong Sort Of Living Turn Anyone Mean? I Remembered Very Well That One Day Back In Yoroido, A Boy Pushed Me Into A Thorn Bush Near The Pond. By The Time I Clawed My Way Out I Was Mad Enough To Bite Through Wood. If A Few Minutes Of Suffering Could Make Me So Angry, What Would Years Of It Do? Even Stone Can Be Worn Down With Enough Rain.

As An American Man Of The 1990s Writing About A Japanese Woman Of The 1930s, I Needed To Cross Three Cultural Divides - Man To Woman, American To Japanese, And Present To Past.

And Then I Became Aware Of All The Magnificent Silk Wrapped Around My Body, And Had The Feeling I Might Drown In Beauty. At That Moment, Beauty Itself Struck Me As A Kind Of Painful Melancholy.

Perhaps It Seems Odd That A Casual Meeting On The Street Could Have Brought About Such Change. But Sometimes Life Is Like That Isn't It

I Worried She Might Spend An Afternoon Chatting With Me About The Sights And Then Wish Me Best Of Luck.