Specifically~ How to talk about land types, but it was still a pitfall when I wrote it a long time ago. . . After reading it again and again, I couldn't bear to throw it away. I looked down upon it. I understand. I cupped my fists and showed my shame. I clapped my hands.
The flowing shadow under the Paulownia tree is fading away little by little, the rippling years are running in the opposite direction, and the time curled up in a corner is trembling.
Longing spreads like a vine, memories suddenly appear, overwhelming, and the accumulated past suddenly becomes very light. I try hard to remember a person, but always forget his face, forget who he was in that midsummer, with a smile like a flower.
March 10, 2007
The writing of a long time ago is bound to be immature. I still hope to fill this hole. September 13, 2010