The Seventh Day

by Yu Hua

chagrin,

solicitously.

disconsolately.

Amid a clamor of commentary, I heard that the girl had been standing there for over two hours. “Why is she standing there?” someone asked. “She’s going to jump off,” another said. “Why does she want to do that?” “She’s tired of living, I guess.” “Why?” “Hell, that’s not so hard to figure out, is it? So many people these days are tired of living.”

Bleak reality

The grudge between them had not crossed the frontier between life and death. Enmity had been sealed off in that departed world.

The best reason to let go

I felt that I was a tree transplanted back to its native forest, a drop of water returning to the river, a mote of dust returning to the earth.

Dharma

sedulous