August 2003
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Tragic Life
Strolling in the late night, on the boulevard, except for a touch of
cars occasionally flying past, it is difficult to spot anything else.
My heart beats in such tranquility, as if I were destined to walk
alone upon this endless road.
...
Too-bad It's Your Spring!
...
When I was four, mom got divorced from that person. Thereafter I
refused to call him by that sacred name. He didn't deserve it.
He had committed a great sin when
he abandoned such a cultivated wife, and such a delightful child. He would rather be with a person who had set
her foot in someone else’s family. He was wrong. Oh yes, I needed to
show him: he had been wrong for seventeen years.
...
The first story must have been written by a Jazz fan, and it seems so much
like a translation of an English original.
And the second one, when I first skimmed it, resembled so much an extract
from a daytime drama from Singapore. But I was mistaken, because I
skipped over three or four words that made all the difference in the world. So
it would be good to keep in mind, that the brother and the sister who fall in
love with one another are not related by birth.
Alright then, good reading.
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