Verandah of Fading Light

: You crazy girl... don't do this, pull me close to you.
: I was missing you terribly today.
: Really? Even with all this connection between our hearts... 'Why do you drift so far away from me!' You know, I was waiting for you for so long.
: Perhaps because there's no distance between our hearts, reality keeps this vast gap between us. We meet only on this one day, while hundreds and thousands of days pass in between! Yet you wait so eagerly for this day—then why do you go so quiet when you're finally here with me?
: When you come near, my heartbeat stops. You don't know how restlessly I've spent every single day waiting for you.
: Didn't I tell you not to cry? Come to my chest, crazy girl.
: When you call me 'crazy girl' with such tenderness, I want to hold you so tight.
: I'm opening myself to you... do whatever you wish!
: If I could have you like this for all of time, I would be one of the happiest people in the world.
: Ha ha, you fool! What are you saying! What's that in your hand?
: Nothing.
: Why are you hiding it? Give me that diary! I know you brought it for me.
: I wanted to give it to you... but I still haven't finished it.
: You say the same thing every time! Can't you finish it, or don't you ever want to finish it?
: I won't tell you.
: You won't tell, I know! That strange notion of yours—"If this diary is ever finished, I'll disappear!" So you leave it incomplete every time, as always.
: Even knowing everything, I can't keep you close to me... you know how lost I am?
: I don't have the courage to make you permanent in this darkness, that's why I let you go like this, every time. But you know—right after you leave, I feel utterly empty.
: Haven't I told you not to say such things? Have you decided you won't listen to me?
: I didn't want to say it... but I'm willing to hear everything you have to say. Just tell me once!

: Crazy girl, shall I make you some tea?
: You make such wonderful tea! Your tea cup holds your touch, and if only to gaze into your eyes for a long while—I don't have the courage to refuse tea made by your hands.
: You are a page from a novel.
: What do you gain by loving me so much?
: Peace.
: What kind of peace—where you keep tormenting yourself again and again?
: You won't understand, fool.
: I have to understand! You'll tell me today. Do you want to love by hurting yourself like this? Then there's no need for such love!
: Hey crazy girl, why are you getting angry? Believe me, just being able to hold you once makes all my pain and suffering disappear. Have I done something wrong? I've never been able to do anything special for you anyway.
: I don't want you to do these things.
: If I don't do these things, I can't write about you... that's why I do it. And you know, people write when they're in pain—there's nothing here to make one happy, but... the soul fills with profound peace.
: Crazy girl... I love you.

: This is exactly how it feels to write while touching the one you love. For you I've kept open that balcony of dim light, where my feelings thrash about for a while and then die... I've hidden in my eyes a whole collection of whims kept just for you. You'll come, won't you?
: I'll come, crazy girl... I'll come—again and again I'll come.