Prose and Roses

I have finished reading my library loan, "Kitchen" by Banana Yoshimoto. But somehow, I keep putting off my initial notion of writing a compliment on it. On the other hand, I have an urge to go through some of her poetic-like, beautiful prose:

1) Now only the kitchen and I are left. It's just a little nicer than being all alone.

When I'm dead worn out, in a reverie, I often think that when it comes time to die, I want to breathe my last in a kitchen. Whether it's cold and I'm all alone, or somebody's there and it's warm, I'll stare death fearlessly in the eye. if it's a kitchen, I'll think, "How good."

PS: I wish I could somehow face death fearlessly...note how the kitchen is a source of Mikage's strength and comfort.

2) "It's not easy being a woman," said Eriko one evening out of the blue.

I lifted my nose from the magazine I was reading and said "Huh?" The beautiful Eriko was watering the plants in front of the terrace before she left for work.

"Because I have a lot of faith in you, I suddenly feel I ought to tell you something. I learned it raising Yuichi. There were many, many difficult times, god knows. If a person wants to stand on her own two feet, I recommend understanding the care and feeding of something. It could be children, or it could be house plants, you know? By doing that you come to understand your own limitations, That's where it starts" As if chanting a liturgy, she related to me her philosophy of life.

"Life can be so hard," I said, moved.

"Yes. But if a person hasn't ever experienced true despair, she grows old never knowing how to evaluate where she is in life; never understanding what joy really is. I'm grateful for it"

PS: One has to know despair before knowing who he is or what is joy. And I am grateful for it.

3)...I suddenly remembered that I had, in the pocket of my school uniform, a little bell that had fallen off the cat. "Here," I said, "a farewell gift," and handed it to him. "What's this?" he said, laughing, and - although it wasn't the most creative gift- took it from my palm and wrapped it carefully in his handkerchief as if it were something precious. He surprised me: it was not typical behaviour for a boy that age.

As it turns out, it was love.

PS: Ordinary yet touching, that is how love usually begins...and it puts me in a reverie, again and again.

4) There was Hitoshi.

Across the river, if this wasn't a dream, and I wasn't crazy, the figure facing was Hitoshi. Seperated from him by the water, my chest welling up, I focused my eyes on that form, the very image of the memory I kept in my heart.
...Hitoshi, do you want to talk to me? I want to talk to you. I want to run to your side, take you in my arms, and rejoice in being together again. But, but - the tears flowed - fate has decided that you and I be so clearly divided like this, facing each other across the river, and I don't have a say in it...His form was slowly growing fainter, disappearing. I stared at it through my tears.

PS: And finally, that is how they parted for the last time, but loving someone never stops, not even for a while. Even though, I have to move on.