Strange Weather in Tokyo

by Hiromi Kawakami

“A person can learn all manner of things, no matter where he finds himself, provided his spirit is determined.”

Even if I had, I doubt it would have bothered her, perhaps it would just have contributed to the subtle accumulation of anger—the way a succession of smaller waves accumulate into one big wave—that rippled throughout everyday life in unexpected places. That’s just the way married life is, I suppose.

being in love makes people uncertain.

I remember thinking to myself there wasn’t a chance in a million that I would ever encounter “a love fated in the stars.”

and now it was dark out and the streets that led back home seemed unrecognizable. Sensei, I whispered. Sensei, I can’t find my way home.

“I suppose it wasn’t loneliness that I felt. Physical pain inspires the worst kind of helplessness.”

I wasn’t at all annoyed to be read so easily, though—rather, I felt like a child hiding something whose parent knows right away what is going on.

And then as the years passed, I turned into quite a childlike person. I suppose I just wasn’t able to ally myself with time.

“It grows because you plant it.” This was a phrase often repeated by my great-aunt when she was alive.

“If the love is true, then treat it the same way you would a plant—fertilize it, protect it from the elements—you must do absolutely everything you can. But if it isn’t true, then it’s best to just let it wither on the vine.”

“Tsukiko, when you see a handsome man, even if you cannot understand what he says, you still think, ‘Oh, that guy’s good-looking,’ don’t you? Handwriting is the same.”

That was quite a discovery for me, the fact that arbitrary kindness makes me uncomfortable, but that being treated fairly feels good.