スカンジナビア半島での別れ
My name is Mr. Tokondori. And, my wife calls me “Totchi”. She lived in Norway. I grew up in Suisse. I was traveler to neighbor country, Norway, same peninsula. We happened to see in the destiny, and two couldn’t help falling in loves until now. Our dream was, together, going to “Oslo music festival”, at some future time.
A dream came true, and our promise was broken by a music. A pianist, be a Japanese, a little girl, attacked my soul I was cultivating and wife’s pride. Our promise was having a diner in this night. I said “I must tremble violently from a thinking my life was good?” and heaved a sigh. Before I was borne and after I will be dead, my name is stolen. When she finished to play the piano, my whisper mean that pray to Venus. The night comes from west and far away to east. My wife said that she has been a loser. “Which?” “Yours.” “Which?” “Older, a liar, and a lier at crying of woods and stones sounds, as soon as we go out from here. I will be a lier. But don’t have hatred to her. I have been sick all along before I met you.”
New promises were forgot her and me each other. And a new dream was that I have never had a funeral and more wedding. But perhaps between the moon goes down and the sun goes up, I will fall down in another port of Norway, love, only mine,”MUSIC”.
Scandinavia has some fjords. And it has many good bye. Good memories, Good bye. My wife, it’s truly a lier, and her hart beat was slowdown. Some winds made me cry and my mind free. A music washed my crime which forgetting her and her breathing of a sleeping, like the god breath the world, all of then were maked to go faraway to forty years ago, the past.
A ? the ? pianist was crying in back stage, when I went to call to fast aid. I watched it then. After three days, I understood it with the reason of her tears and shouts. News paper said that she cut her left , left wrist for goodbye from a war in her life mentality. But she left. She said that she haven’t had a worth of living, she is living dead. Piano is a junk. A junk vanished. A vanished thing has no ownership. And my wife’s last message was “I ‘m sorry. I’m freedom.”.
What is freedom women say? Everybody have the freedom. To love, to life, to be dead. No more war, no more growth of human being. No love no fight of a couple at a date. For example, e,g, music will meet their end, and they keep oneself, I know, my name is.
