All the Lovers in the Night

It’s like the night is breathing. Like the sound of melted light.

Why is the night so beautiful? Why does it shine the way it does? Why is the night made up entirely of light?

Because at night, only half the world remains.

I don’t know, I guess sometimes I feel happy or sad or worried . . . or maybe I get really into something on TV, or really like the flavor of some giant shrimp, whatever. But sometimes I have to wonder if those thoughts or feelings might be coming from the things I read for work. When I start to feel emotional about something, I can’t tell if I’m actually feeling that way. What if it’s just something somebody wrote in a book? Or maybe a line or a performance from some movie . . . Either way, I get this feeling like I’m quoting somebody else’s work.

People act like feminism is a dirty word. As if being a strong, hard-working woman has fallen out of fashion. Not that these people have ever thought about any of that before. They say it’s different for me. That not everyone is as strong as I am, that most people are weak or whatever. But that’s not it. They aren’t weak. They’re dull. They don’t pick up on things. And I’m not strong.

Now that the light was gone, I closed my eyes softly, knowing it would only be a short time until the light came back in the morning.

touching means you can’t get any closer

No matter who you are when you come here, Fuyuko, I really do enjoy your company

as long as the music was playing, I knew that there was nothing to fear, that I could go anywhere at all

I surrendered myself to a world of sound that could only be described as sparkling.