Hashiki I have seen three leaves, a picture of the man.

The first is a picture of the man as a child, estimated to be around 10 years old, surrounded by many women (I imagine they are his sisters, younger sisters, and cousins), standing by a pond in a garden, wearing a roughly striped hakama, his head tilted to the left about 30 degrees, and smiling ugly. He is standing by a pond in a garden, wearing a roughly striped hakama, his head tilted about 30 degrees to the left, smiling uggily. Ugly? 　But dull people (i.e., those who don’t care about beauty or ugliness) look at him as if they are not amused or anything. 　You are a pretty little boy, aren’t you? 　Even if you say, “He’s a cute little boy, isn’t he? 　However, if you have been trained in the art of beauty and ugliness, you would immediately notice the child’s smile and think, “What a disgusting child! 　What a disgusting child! 　However, a person with even a little bit of training in the field of beauty and ugliness might immediately throw the picture away as if he or she were trying to get rid of a caterpillar.

You are a pretty little boy, aren’t you? 　Even if you say, “He’s a cute little boy, isn’t he? 　However, if you have been trained in the art of beauty and ugliness, you would immediately notice the child’s smile and think, “What a disgusting child! 　What a disgusting child! 　However, a person with even a little bit of training in the field of beauty and ugliness might immediately throw the picture away as if he or she were trying to get rid of a caterpillar. 　The more I looked at the child’s smile, the more I felt a strange and unpleasant feeling. It is not a smile at all. The child is not smiling at all. The proof is that this child is standing with both fists clenched tightly. Humans are not capable of smiling with clenched fists. It is a monkey. It is a monkey’s smile. It is just an ugly wrinkle on his face. It was a picture of a wrinkled little boy, with a very strange, somewhat garish, and somewhat annoying expression on his face. I had never seen a child with such a strange expression before. 　The face on the second leaf of the photo had also changed, and this time, it was a student’s face.

The face on the second leaf of the photo had also changed, and this time, it was a student’s face. It was that of a student. I am not sure if it was a high school or college photo, but at any rate, it was a very good-looking student. However, strangely enough, she did not look like a living person. She was dressed in school uniform, had a white handkerchief peeking out of her breast pocket, was sitting on a wicker chair with her legs crossed, and was also smiling. This time, his smile was not a wrinkled monkey smile, but rather a very clever smile, but it was somehow different from a human smile. It is not like a bird’s smile, but light as a feather, a blank sheet of paper. In other words, from one thing to the next, it is like a fake. It is not enough to call it “racy. It is not enough to call it frivolous. It is not enough to say they are grinning. Fashionable, of course, is not enough. Moreover, if you look closely, you can sense that there is something ghostly and creepy about this beautiful student. I had never seen a young man with such mysterious good looks before. The other photo is the strangest of all.

The other photo is the strangest of all. It was as if I could no longer tell how old he was. His head seemed to have some gray hair. In a corner of the room, which was very dirty (three walls of the room had fallen down, as clearly shown in the photo), he was holding his hands over a small brazier, and this time he was not smiling. He is not smiling this time. He has no expression of any kind. It was a very strange and ominous photo, as if he was sitting down, holding his hands over a brazier, and dying naturally. This is not the only strange thing about the photo. The face was rather large in the photo, so I was able to examine the structure of the face. The forehead was ordinary, the wrinkles on the forehead were ordinary, the eyebrows were ordinary, the eyes were ordinary, the nose, mouth, and chin were ordinary, and the face had no expression or even impression. They have no features. For example, I look at this picture and close my eyes. I have already forgotten this face. I can recall the walls of the room and the small brazier, but the impression of the face of the main character in the room fades away, and I can’t remember it, no matter what I do. It is a face that cannot be depicted in any way. It is not a face that can be used in a comic book or anything else. I opened my eyes. There is no joy, not even the feeling of “Oh, I remember this face. To put it in an extreme way, even if you open your eyes and look at the picture again, you cannot remember it. And so, I just feel uncomfortable and annoyed and want to turn my eyes away. What is called a “dead face”? 　I think that even a dead face should have some kind of expression or impression, but if a human body had the head of a horse attached to it, it would look something like this, and in any case, it makes the viewer feel horrified and disgusted.

What is called a “dead face”? 　I think that even a dead face should have some kind of expression or impression, but if a human body had the head of a horse attached to it, it would look something like this, and in any case, it makes the viewer feel horrified and disgusted. I had never seen such a mysterious man’s face before. [page break] The first memoir. 　I have lived a life of shame. 　I have no idea what human life is. I was born in the countryside of northeastern Japan, so it was not until I was much older that I saw a train for the first time. I had never realized that the bridge at the depot was built to go up, down, and over the tracks, but only thought that it was equipped only to make the depot complex, fun, and colorful, like a foreign playground. And I had thought so for quite a long time. I thought that going up and down the bridges was a rather sophisticated game and one of the most sophisticated services on the railroad, but later I discovered that it was merely a very utilitarian stairway for passengers to cross over the tracks. I was also surprised to discover that it was only a very utilitarian staircase for passengers to cross over the tracks. 　When I saw a subway railroad in a picture book as a child, I also thought that it was not a practical necessity, but rather a fun way to ride in an underground car rather than an above-ground car.

When I saw a subway railroad in a picture book as a child, I also thought that it was not a practical necessity, but rather a fun way to ride in an underground car rather than an above-ground car. 　I was sickly since childhood and often fell asleep. While sleeping, I always thought the covers of the mattress, pillows, and comforter were trivial decorations, but when I realized at around 20 years of age that they were actually useful items, I felt saddened at the cruelty of human beings. 　I also did not know what hunger was. It sounds strange, but even if you are hungry, you don’t know it. In elementary school and junior high school, when I came home from school, people around me would say, “You must be hungry, we remember that too. 　I showed my usual sycophantic spirit and mumbled that I was hungry and popped about ten pieces of amanatto into my mouth, but I had no idea what hunger was. 　Of course, I myself eat a lot of food, but I can hardly remember ever eating anything out of hunger.

Of course, I myself eat a lot of food, but I can hardly remember ever eating anything out of hunger. I eat what I think is rare. I eat what seems luxurious. And, most of the time, they eat what they are served when they go somewhere else, even if it means forcing themselves to eat it. Thus, the most painful time for me as a child was really the meal time at my own home. 　In my country home, each family of about 10 people had two rows of tables facing each other, and I, the youngest child, was of course seated at the bottom. The dining room was dimly lit, and at lunchtime, I always felt chilly as I watched the dozen or so people in the family just quietly eating their meals. And because it was an old-fashioned country house, the dishes were usually prepared in advance, and there was no hope for anything unusual or extravagant, so I dreaded the time of the meal. I sat at the end of the dimly lit room, shivering with cold, and brought small portions of rice to my mouth and shoved them in.