Chapter 23 The Road to the Meeting
After the bamboo exploded in the stove, I slip back into feverish nightmare, clutching my last remaining bamboo stick as I writhe in pain.
The anger of having something I made burned up. The vexation of that anger not being understood. The despair of having struggled so many times to make a book, yet never finishing one at all. Spreading through it all, a deep and profound weariness that makes me just want to let go of everything.
I don’t care about anything anymore. I no longer have the willpower to fight back.
My mother burned my mokkan, When she burned the bamboo that Lutz had brought so I could make bamboo writing strips, though, I couldn’t summon up any of that anger.
If only I was healthy. If only I was a strong, fit adult.
If I were an adult,
