A Writer In Someone Who

Ka Thought It Strangely Depressing That The Suicide Girls Had Had To Struggle To Find A Private Moment To Kill Themselves. Even After Swallowing Their Pills, Even As They Lay Quietly Dying, They’d Had To Share Their Rooms With Others.

My Decision To View The World Through Novels, As It Were, Which Is A Typically European Way Of Looking At Things, Became A Heavy Burden For Me. But I Took It On Consciously, Even Though It Was Torture For Me.

All Great Masters, In Their Work, Seek That Profound Void Within Color And Outside Time.

Immersing Oneself In The Problems Of A Book Is A Good Way To Keep From Thinking Of Love.

Ka Knew Very Well That Life Was A Meaningless String Of Random Incidents