I still don't like the operatic expression techniques of European writers. Maybe I can find some resonance in the pessimism of Japanese authors after the war. This is not just something that can be described as plain, this description feels a little perfunctory in my heart, at least partly - I still think so after asking myself.
I don't want to go to Japan with an empty suitcase. I want to go to Nara first, pay a visit to Todaiji Temple Shoso-in, and take a look at the legendary "Mother-in-law and Rosewood Five-stringed Pipa." If the guards hadn't chased me away, they might have given me more than a glance.
Maybe by then you will be so excited that you forget to book in advance, that "Sukiyabashi Jiro" hidden in the fairy tale. I opened the warm curtain, and in front of me was the God of Sushi, and his eldest son, who was already working hard. If your luck hasn't run out that year, you might get a taste of Ono Jiro's cooking skills. His eldest son is still a middle-aged man. Who knows which part of his body he just touched in the kitchen.
I have only eaten two boxes of seaweed rice dumplings at half price of 15 yuan in the supermarket when I was about to get off work. They were served with some spicy vegetables. I bought them back and they were very unpalatable. I held the oily sushi in my hands. The sweat from the chef's palms stuck to it. It tasted fresh and salty when I chewed it. After I swallowed it, I felt refreshed. I couldn't help but take a deep breath, as if the turbid air in my body had been exhaled by fresh raw fish. I will face the empty porcelain plate, say thank you with satisfaction, and then add a strange sentence: Aligaduo.
After dinner, when I saw the bird in the cage, I felt pity for its dim eyes. I took it for granted that if it exists, it will be remembered; if it is destroyed, it will be forgotten and disappear in the past days.