Japan
Japanophile~
Japan
Japanophile~
Makiko looked old. Everyone looks older as the years go by, but that’s not what I mean. She wasn’t even forty, but if she told you “I just turned fifty-three,” you’d wish her happy birthday. She didn’t look older. She literally looked old.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I thought about what it would be like to paint my own portrait. Say I were to try, what sort of self would I end up painting? Would I be able to find even a shred of affection for myself? Would I be able to discover even one thing shining within me?
“Cloth has traditionally been inseparable from life itself. Silk is drawn from the cocoons of silkworms fed on mulberry leaves, cotton is spun from the bolls of the cotton plant. Hemp fabric is produced from plant stems, basho cloth from leaf sheaths, and shinafu from tree bark, which passes through a series of processes to become yarn. Yarns are
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“Every one of us is losing something precious to us,” he says after the phone stops ringing. “Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads – at least that’s where I imagine it – there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks
... See moreBut if you’re saying I should think seriously about my own “from now on,” then first I would need to know about “until now,” as its precondition. PHILOSOPHER: No. Right now, you are in front of me. It is enough to know “you who are in front of me,” and in principle there is no way for me to know “the past you.” I repeat, the past does not exist.
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