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“Held in the custody of childhood is a locked chest; the adolescent, by one means or another, tries to open it. The chest is opened: inside, there is nothing. So he reaches a conclusion: the treasure chest is always like this, empty. From this point on, he gives priority to this assumption of his rather than to his reality. In other words, he is now a “grown-up.” Yet was the chest really empty? Wasn’t there something vital, something invisible to the eye, that got away at the very moment it was opened?” — Yukio Mishima
Held in the custody of childhood is a locked chest; the adolescent, by one means or another, tries to open it. The chest is opened: inside, there is nothing. So he reaches a conclusion: the treasure chest is always like this, empty. From this point on, he gives priority to this assumption of his rather than to his reality. In other words, he is now a “grown-up.” Yet was the chest really empty? Wasn’t there something vital, something invisible to the eye, that got away at the very moment it was opened?