Grotesque

by Natsuo Kirino

Still, if sex is the only way to dissolve these feelings, then men and women really are pathetic. I will launch my boat on a sea of hatred, my eye on the far shore, wondering when I might make land. Ahead I hear the roar of water. Might my boat be headed for a waterfall? Perhaps I must first plunge into the falls before I can set out upon the sea of hatred. Niagara? Yguazu? Victoria? My body trembles. But if I can make the first descent, the path that opens from there will be surprisingly pleasant, won’t it? That’s what Kazue expressed in her journals. So let me shoulder my baggage of hatred and confusion and set sail undaunted. In honor of my courage, there on the other shore, Yuriko and Kazue are waving to me, urging me on, applauding my gallant determination. Hurry up! they seem to say. I recall what Kazue recorded in her journal, and I too want to enfold myself in a man’s embrace.