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“I went outside. The rain had stopped. The air, washed by the rain, was serene, and the waves sounded closer than usual. The full moon shone like a pearl in the night sky. The moonlight made it look as if all the houses had sunk to the bottom of a lake. The road stretched ahead, white. It was the road that led to Migitahama. A gust of wind and the petals from a wild cherry tree went dancing, white against the darkness, and I remembered then that the cherry trees here blossomed two or three weeks later than in Tokyo. The waves roared. I stood alone in the darkness. Light does not illuminate. It only looks for things to illuminate. And I had never been found by the light. I would always be in darkness—” — Yū Miri
I went outside. The rain had stopped.
The air, washed by the rain, was serene, and the waves sounded closer than usual.
The full moon shone like a pearl in the night sky.
The moonlight made it look as if all the houses had sunk to the bottom of a lake.
The road stretched ahead, white.
It was the road that led to Migitahama.
A gust of wind and the petals from a wild cherry tree went dancing, white against the darkness, and I remembered then that the cherry trees here blossomed two or three weeks later than in Tokyo.
The waves roared.
I stood alone in the darkness.
Light does not illuminate.
It only looks for things to illuminate.
And I had never been found by the light.
I would always be in darkness—