I was originally a lonely trash can by the Yokohama embankment. My biggest worry every day was that my body contained the secret to destroy the world. Until one day, a man in a trench coat leaned half of his body in to hide from the debt. "Mr. Dazai!!!" There was a roar in the distance. He winked at me, stuffed the bandage into my cover and ran away. Well, he didn't find out my secret.
Later it became even more outrageous. A gray-haired girl insisted on talking to me when she passed by and asked me "What is the meaning of the trash can?" The short orange-haired man wearing a top hat next to me kicked me angrily, trying to find traces of Dazai from my stomach. He failed, and he couldn't discover my secret either.
I have now become a Yokohama landmark. Weird people hide love letters, weapons, and themselves in me.
Dazai Osamu came again yesterday and threw a note into my stomach:
"Dear trash can, how do you feel about being rummaged through repeatedly by weirdos from both worlds?"
I have no mouth. But someone wrote a reply in lipstick on my lid:
"I'm used to it. You can't even hold it in a trash can."
This is my barrel. Even in Yokohama, where weird things happen frequently, I am still the best pretender in the world. After all, I pretended to be a big secret that destroyed the world.
Intention: Even the loneliest perseverance will eventually be seen