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Ueno came to me before he was executed. I think he could have a longer life to face the wall and become a thinker, but he's not ready to do that anymore, he says he'll die in Japanese form. Gray hair, because he spent the remaining years as an ascetic, sleeping on sackcloth, sometimes covering his thick winter supplies over straw, and shivering while delivering meals. I told him to calm down, no matter whether it is rocky or jagged, or leftovers, at least it won't torture anyone. He said can I bring a pen and paper? I sympathized with him, and I said that if you eat and drink as well as you did in previous years, you will have a good time these days. This is our first conversation.
Now he handed me a few pieces of paper and said he wanted you to keep them. He seems to be a solemn passer. I said yes, thinking in my mind that when he was struggling to write and draw, the pencil blackened the paper, and some sadness whitened his hair. I can't say the word "Take care", he has already limped away, I can only look down to see what he has to say. No mistake, it was for Jack. He used to pronounce that name when I gave him a blanket.
"I've thought many times about how I'm going to beg him to hold off for a few days, or a few hours, when I meet a judge in the future, and let me write something down. If I had to die for a wronged soul. I'm no longer a religious man. I am dying, because everything in my life was slowly destroyed by one person, and he has died.
But I learned that I may not need to be forced to atone, I will have my own way to solve it. When faith becomes an adjunct to memory, everything I do becomes a sacrifice. I don't want the rare brilliance to look different when I look back, in fact, I have only a vague impression now about A warrior's voice and smile and eyes that refract a different color."
"About why I'm only going to write it down now, it's because it's a lot easier to face now. In the days after he died, every day of my day was used to kick shards of wood, and sometimes I asked the model to be erected on my On the opposite side, I can attack it as much as I want. Imagine me stabbing and killing the rebels with my knife—sorry, I even had more words running through my mind, the extension of the punishment, which I thought at the time was all right. But at night, he panicked and entered my dream. At first he was full of self-confidence, singing and grooming, and suddenly he became a prisoner of the desert, and the desert was too small and kept shrinking. I found that I also stood on it and got stuck in a mud, that was the first time I felt my faith being swallowed up. When I woke up I whipped myself with some thorny canes and no one saw me in pain. I was in pain There will be tears at times, which I never expected, and I didn't even think I shed a single tear when I had my caesarean - I'd die rightly; but he shouldn't have ended his life this way. I realized Crying at the thought of him.
I have to admit it.
But these memories won't visit me as often, I think again. This will be a pebble on my way to the ideal of a republic, kicked far away, rolled all the way In the Chinese water village where I was brutally treated, I buried soft and waxy yarrow. But at night, when he was as thick as sitting on the stone bench opposite my mattress, I couldn't wake myself up at all. Knowing that this rock will eventually blow away the whole beach like the wind, he is the highest bird that has gone to heaven. Immediately he is going to speak, with the will of his God. My reply was justified in the past It's true, but I'm speechless. Except for the Meiji Restoration, there is no history coming to my lips. I opened my mouth and glanced at a face that was sitting upright, and the makeup that was brought from the Tang Dynasty. I said that I wanted to meet You. Too bad, not because I reneged on my promise, but because I had to watch the night, and the mechanism in my body was pulling me awake."
"I feel guilty for questioning the Dongying I was born with so quickly. In fact, I've always been shaken by it... When I was a child, when I was playing with it, a sword was pointed at the neck, and the other side said that the loser should be punished. Then I stroked it lightly and lightly. I was extremely sensitive to pain in childhood. But words entered my heart much faster. I wrote down the sentence that those who are disrespectful are destined to be doomed, destined to have a brand. But it hurts Ah, do they bear it--I can feel the scars appearing. Who cares so much in a frenzy, and when we ask them to kneel, we kowtow to another authority that I thought was soothing.
Shame engulfed me, and I was willing to pass out between the two taboos of losing my self and realizing the word love! But last time, Jack told me when I was torn between the two— Practice western etiquette. It's such a shame to say the word kiss. Etiquette makes me feel better, but if he starts kissing everyone, it's something I don't dare to think about. I'm in bed Stiff, he was so diligent in tidying even in prison, I could seem to smell the soap suds. I watched him fall asleep at the door one night, and I figured I was staring at the felon, but the flashlight was the same as the stage light Yes, on this extremely desolate night. I even gave him a Persian blanket. Persia is like a foreign land, he is a foreign object, he is the one who broke into the court. The barefooted bride in mythology, the ringing silver bell , on the soft blanket leading to Paradise. I can't offer much here, but he will sleep in this blanket."
"It's like I'm at peace. I'm retelling what I thought, I can only remember What am I thinking. Someone should be more interested in bringing up the past. I think of a kiss, a death from time to time, but I can't say what I've been through. I was going crazy when he bit the flower, he died standing up At that time, I was in awe. I can't always say that there is love at work. At that moment, all my shakes were stabilized. Maybe the result of forcing people to kneel may not necessarily be physical pain, but it will always hurt others. soul.
Will I be an anti-war, I don't know. Whether I was killed because I killed someone by mistake or because I gave love, I don't know. I cut off his hair. Golden, like blown sand. Seriously, it was like the throat of that unknown opponent when I was a child. That person exchanged a bloodstain for the extremes and struggles of the first half of my life. I was making a limitless promise. I hope people will stop wondering where the hair is, I wrapped it in Chinese red paper and stuffed it in the inner pocket. "
I'll be with it when I die." Life is too short. When you take the wrong first step, you will pay for it for the rest of your life. Sadly, I don't have room to consider where my first footprints were. "
Perhaps like the first time I saw Jack in court, I had no room for that." "
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