dead-end memories – banana yoshimoto
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And yet, when I traveled to other cities, I always found that a view without a river was of no interest to me at all. Perhaps that was because the inherent stillness of my nature made me crave the sight of things that moved.
[…]
That was when I learned how easily I could slip into feeling at home in a city with a river flowing through it. I also discovered that sitting in a café watching people go by was just like watching a river. It could only happen in a city with a long history.
[…]
It was how I came to understand that what made a river frightening was the chilling infinitude of time itself.
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In a similar vein, I once spent a long time thinking about light.
[…]
Once, he said to me, “Mitsuyo, there’s something round and beautiful and lonely inside of you. Kind of like a firefly.”
[…]
It was only much later that I learned the light came from me, and what Makoto had done was to be its witness and protector.
[…]
“I think the light you see comes from the people inside. The light inside them shines out, and that’s where the glow really comes from. Because you can easily feel lonely even with all the lights on.”
“It’s the people that shine?”
“It’s the light inside the people that makes it seem bright. It must be. Isn’t that why you wish you could be in there with them, or feel like you want to go home?”
