#hirano keiichiro
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isbraveandwild · 1 year ago
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A man (2022) dir. Kei Ishikawa
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i-look-back-and-laugh · 2 years ago
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KEIICHIRO HIRANO IS COMING TO TOWN
I REPEAT KEIICHIRO HIRANO IS COMING THIS IS NOT A DRILL
OMG
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deasbanker · 2 months ago
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Book review: Heart of Hearts(『本心』)by Keiichiro Hirano
15/9/2024
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 This was the second book written by Keiichiro Hirano I read after his exquisite philosophical book named What is it to be an I? From individual to Dividual(『私とは何か「個人」から「分人」へ』), which is about how to think of myself and my coexisting multiple aspects with no self-hatred from the author's point of view and I found that he was forgiving and considerate enough for me to have great faith in him, although I, of course, have never met him. Anyway, the reason why I picked Heart of Hearts(『本心』), one of his novels, for this time was my mom had wanted to read for so long; So, I read it before giving it to her.
 The story is set in Japan 2041, where AI technology as well as VR have totally prevailed and people also have the right to choose euthanasia regardless of health problems legally. The protagonist named Sakuya, a 30 year-old gig-worker, living with his mother, all of a sudden, lost her to a falling drone accident, deciding to order AI replica of his beloved mother for the sake of consoling himself. Then, he started to seek for the reason she had wanted to die voluntarily during her lifetime, or her real thought, while leading a new life with the AI replica.
 After reading this, I realized this novel is dedicated to economic inequality, deep-rooted social hierarchy and marginalized people rather than grief of losing beloved ones or the relationship between mother and son. I suppose that its setting has been emphasized too much even for marketing purposes. As a person with mental illnesses and developmental disability but a full-time job, Sakuya's vision on such themes above resonated with me to the point where my depression got worse for a little while. He doesn't sufficient academic background to make a good living, whereas I had a lot of chances once; We both ended up in the identical place and kept wishing to go to the other side, where you wouldn't be treated like garbage nor feel humbled owing to status and living standard. However, the story consequently came to the conclusion that he was determined to go back to school for his career, which I, to be honest, felt a bit dejected about as it seemed like encouraging self-help. Besides that decision/conclusion, I don't think there was an alternative, though.
 As the title Heart of Hearts suggests, it had several scenes which readers could associate with the title, or what it is like to grasp others' thoughts or feelings in the true sense of the word. That's why I could easily find remarks in relation to words and language in this novel. Words cannot always describe speakers' feelings or emotions to be exact; In other words, words should sometimes be helpless, and people never get to understand others in a sense. Yet, that's ok unless you continue to eager to know who others are; What's important is such an attitude toward others in lifetime.
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takmiblog · 3 months ago
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 ハンナ・アレントは、『人間の条件』の中で、ガリレオが天体望遠鏡という「道具」を用いて地動説を証明したことの意義を、最大限に強調している。――なぜか?  「それ以前人間は、自分が肉体と精神の目で眺めたものに忠実でありさえすれば、リアリティと真理は、おのずから感覚と理性にその姿を現すであろうと信じていたが、結局、その間、人間はずっと欺かれていたことになる。」  一体、天が動いているのか、地が動いているのか? 感じるままに世界を受け止めることが正しいのか、それとも、頭の中で構想した姿こそが、この世界の真相か?――そんな論争は、実は不毛だったのである。なぜなら、世界は、理性と感性にプラスして、道具を用いなければ、決して明かすことのない本当の姿を隠しているのだから。その極小の場所から極大の場所に至るまで。生身の人間は、この事実を突きつけられ��瞬間から、世界のリアリティから疎外されることになった。 これがアレントの主張である。
In "Vita activa" by Hannah Arendt, She emphasizes the significance of Galileo's proof of the theory of ground using the "astronomical telescope" tool. --why? "Prior to that, human beings believed that reality and truth would naturally reveal their senses and reasons if they were true to what they viewed with the eyes of the body and spirit, but in the end , Human beings were deceived all the time. " Is the heavens moving, the ground moving? Is it right to take the world as it feels, or is the figure that I thought in my mind is the truth of this world? - Such controversy was actually barren. Because the world hides the true figure that will never be revealed unless you use tools to add plus reason and sensitivity. From that very small place to the greatest place. From the moment the real man was confronted with this fact, a living human being was marginalized from the world's reality. That is her argument
(http://tokyo-ga.org/photographers/takimotomikiya/)
東京画 瀧本幹也 TAKIMOTO Mikiya
〝リアリティ〟の美しい体験 平野啓一郎
A beautiful experience of "reality" By Keiichiro HIRANO
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namfinessed · 7 months ago
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come closer, come closer - k.nj.
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genre: fluff, angst (8.7k) (slowburn! sliceoflife!)
summary: nothing in your life is permanent, you would never let anything be permanent, but namjoon nestles his way in and refuses to leave, will you let him stay or would he remain something temporary? or a fic in which a friends-with-benefits situation with namjoon gets twisted out of control. (colors!universe)
note: all of the stories in the series can be read individually <3
masterpost series masterlist
-
fate used to amuse you, the concept of people, the many people, their many stories, their many love stories, some that made sense to you, some that seemed like absolute madness, but all of them stories you sat and listened to, you sat and read about because stories to you, were a window to what life could be.
and your life changed when namjoon entered it. it seemed like too much of the world aligned so that you would fall for him, it seemed like madness, and it made perfect sense.
everything that happened after meeting him, was truly out of your hands.
-
it was an off day at work. you hummed as you breezed past the shelves of books surrounding you, nothing brought you more peace than this.
today, your mission was to find a particular book.
at the end of the matinee by keiichiro hirano.
the book was about two people, close to their forties in age, who fall in love, but with the caution, wariness, and desperation that comes with that age. one of them was a world-renowned ‘genius’ guitarist whereas the other was a trauma journalist, their universes couldn’t be more different but seemed to align just for them. when you had heard about it, you knew immediately you had to read it, it was this concept of love that you had never explored before.
your eyes darted to every title as quickly as they could, but you could feel yourself getting impatient as you passed by more shelves, none of them had the book you wanted.
the front desk lady lied when she reassured you that it was in row 3, you were in row 15 now and it was nowhere to be found.
a deep irritation settled under your skin as you cursed the skies and stars for doing this to you, you continued your grumbling as you sat down with a huff at a table. of course, two good things, a day off and the book you so desperately wanted, wouldn’t happen all at once to you. rarely, one good thing happened to you in a day so, this was nothing new.
but still, you were so invested in the world of that book, that you wanted to dive into that world and never float back up because a love so tender, at an age where everything feels the same and your skin sheds its youth, fascinated you.
and today, you won’t get to dive in, you won’t get to be lost in a world that didn’t belong to you.
“excuse me, that’s my seat.” a hush of a voice filled your ears. you immediately removed yourself from the seat and moved a seat up, scrolling on your phone aimlessly.
maybe you will find another book.
maybe there is another world that you could live in, for now.
then, it hits you.
the scent of something soft, a cloud, a pillow. the scent wraps around you, taking you with its softness. you know that scent.
you peek up to see a man next to you. he was wearing a baby blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a baseball cap, and a mask.
the softness that distracted you.
and in his hands, he held the book that you were wishing the gods above and below for.
you know those hands.
he was the one who took your precious book before you did?
you didn’t own it by any means but that didn’t mean you weren’t highly frustrated that it ended up in his hands, of everyone else.
“you.” you said, as calmly as you could.
namjoon bites back a grin at the frustration in your voice. “yes?”
“you know i’ve been looking for this namjoon, this isn’t fair.” you bark out, leaning forward to grab the book from him but he just holds it above himself, knowing you won’t be able to reach it. you sink back into your seat with a frown on your face and namjoon sighs.
he’s never had a problem telling someone no, in fact, he’s enjoyed turning down some overly excited people but when it came to you, denying you of something just wasn’t possible for him, even if it was as a joke.
the book plopped in front of you and your frown immediately melted, and you grabbed it into your arms, namjoon rolled his eyes with a fond smile growing on his face.
“give it to me when you come over someday.”
your relationship with namjoon was hard to describe, you were sort-of friends, sort-of friends who had read books together, sort-of friends who hung out without saying a word, and sort-of friends who occasionally had sex.
it all started when a mutual friend introduced you to him at a horrid party that you hated being at, namjoon hated it too and he made that clear, so you decided to spend your time doing something else.
and soon, it became a regular occurrence and it was working well, you two understood what the other wanted and had no qualms about giving it to them.
namjoon pulled out his book as well and you peeked at it curiously.
lovers in the night by mieko kawakami.
strange.
you added that book to your to-read list yesterday.
“you can just ask to see it if you want, you know?” he tuts at you teasingly, watching your eyes dart towards his book, you scoff at him and sink into your seat.
then, there was silence, only the sound of pages turning and both of your breaths coming out in the space. you liked that, you never had to talk to namjoon to be present with him and so far, this arrangement worked perfectly for you.
but you caught yourself peeking in his direction again, this time, it wasn’t his book, it was him, the way he sat, the way he turned the pages sharply, the way his breath came out slow and you had no excuse for your curiosity.
“tonight, your place?” his question came casually and you nodded as soon as the words left him.
you couldn’t help but think that you had agreed too quickly.
-
“i don’t understand the point of this movie” you say to namjoon, lying across his chest and your body shakes with his as a low laugh tumbles out of him. he has come to be extremely fond of your quick irritation to things.
“you read so much romance, i thought you would’ve gotten it by now” he sips his wine and you feel the urge to tip it over his white sweatshirt, just for his sarcastic tone. namjoon sees the glare on your face and feels the strangest satisfaction wash over him.  
“don’t make me pour the bottle on you.” you eye the bottle that was near your feet and he promptly reaches out to put it near him with a tut which makes you giggle.
chungking express wasn’t your usual movie.
there was no rosy romance filled with confessions and promises.
there were just stolen glances, just hoping that someone else wouldn’t take them, just the characters in a world that changed too quickly, just memories that never faded.
it both fascinated and confused you.
why did love have to be so confusing?
if two people liked each other, was it so hard to just say the words and be together?
why did anything else matter?
he notices your confusion, the deep frown on your face is a dead giveaway, and namjoon, shamefully admits to himself, that he finds it cute.
“i can hear your mind all the way here” namjoon taps your temple and you shift to sit with a groan. “i just don’t understand what’s so hard.”
he already wanted to pull you back on his chest but he clears his throat instead.
“please fill me in.”
“if she likes him, why didn’t she just tell him?” you point to the character who was now staring adoringly at her lover, this was just one out of the many times that they’d met and she was yet to make a move.
namjoon stares at the character, all of the words she wants to say die inside of her but her eyes stay alive with the love she holds for her object of admiration.
“i guess it’s not so easy.”
“what is not easy about just saying the words?” you rolled your eyes.
namjoon’s answer is quick, maybe too quick, “i don’t know, giving someone a piece of your most vulnerable form is scary, there is always fear in affection.”
he leaned back uncomfortably after saying it, not knowing if he should’ve said anything at all.
but to you, something about the way namjoon spoke, always put you in a daze. you never heard someone talk the way he did and you weren’t supposed to like the way he talked. “you sound like the wise tortoise from kung fu panda.” you snicker at him instead of blurting out that his words warmed your heart.
in a world where affection and love were dying, namjoon gave a more comforting reason as to why it was dying, maybe it wasn’t the factual reason, but it helped you feel better anyway.
he scrunches his eyebrows and scoffs at you, “he’s my favorite character so, fuck you.” you laugh at his annoyed face and throw your legs over his feet, he adjusts himself and you sink into the side of his arm. namjoon could feel his body wanting you closer but he resisted, he held his arm above you and over the sofa and shoved his desires in deep.
the movie was long, you didn’t particularly like it, and you never understood why people had such a hard time figuring out their feelings but namjoon didn’t have to know. and as soon as the movie ended, he got up to leave.
“you can pick the movie next time,” he says as he puts on his shoes, looking up at you with a knowing grin. “i liked it!” you tried to save your face, following him to the main door.
well, he liked that you were at least pretending to not completely hate it, for his sake.
namjoon turns to you with a quirked eyebrow, finding it all so amusing, and before he can stop himself, he steps closer and places a single kiss on your forehead and just as quickly, steps away.
that wasn’t supposed to happen.
he doesn’t know what came over him.
“i saw you yawn five times in ten minutes, we’ll watch kung fu panda next time.” he snickered with an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach and rushed out the door, to make sure he didn’t do anything again.
and you stand, shell-shocked.
that was not a big deal.
a kiss on the forehead.
not a big deal at all.
it was not a big deal that your hands were clenched by your sides.
it was not a big deal that your cheeks stayed burning hot.
it was not a big deal that your feet refused to move away from where he left.
this shouldn’t be happening.
you guys never just watched a movie, it always led to something more but it wasn’t even in your minds today and that wasn’t okay.
you needed to remind him that your hangouts were for sex only and it can’t be anything else. you needed to remind namjoon that you were getting off track, which was unacceptable.
that night, namjoon dreamt of you in his arms, just you in his arms, that was unacceptable.
but that night, your hands reached to caress the spot where you still felt his lips. and that was also unacceptable.
-
you didn’t text him after that, it wasn’t intentional or anything, you just felt that things shifted that night and you didn’t like it, a little distance would set things right back to the way they were.
casual and easy.
because that’s why you two worked, it was always casual and easy with namjoon.
and you hated to admit this to yourself, but you missed him.
which wasn’t so casual and easy.
you checked every post he made on instagram, every story that he uploaded, every song he recommended, and you still answered when he texted you but you let the message hover in your notification board for a few hours and gave every excuse possible to not meet him.
and this was supposed to be easy, you never felt the need to hang out or be with namjoon before, but that feeling was growing as the days passed, without a feel of his skin, without his gaze on you, without his slow laughter flowing through your room.
you wondered how it was for namjoon, maybe he was okay, maybe he didn’t care at all, maybe he was with someone else already and that was all fine, it was how things should be.
“people do fall in love. people do belong to each other because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness.”
paul from breakfast at tiffany’s spoke on the screen, he looked angry but his words plead with his lover to agree with him, to let him sweep her off her feet, he needs her to understand that they are meant to be, even if she tried to deny it, even if she believes in a world where love didn’t exist.
you watched with teary eyes as they both ended up kissing in the rain with all their love pouring into each other.
it made you feel bitter.
it made you feel…empty.
you ignore it.
with an uneasy feeling crawling down your chest, you pull out your phone and your finger immediately reaches for the instagram icon. you waste no time clicking the circle around namjoon’s profile.
god bless him for being so active.
he was at a bar, not too far away from here and he was smiling, surrounded by a large group of friends.
the uneasiness in your chest let up a bit as your lips tugged into a smile too, namjoon’s always had a nice smile.
you really wanted to see him.
as much as it killed you to come to terms with that, every inch of you was trying to run away and find him, melt in him, let him talk through the night about things you never quite understood but enjoyed listening to.
or maybe your forehead just wanted another kiss, maybe your body just wanted company for tonight, maybe you just needed him for the exact benefits your situation rewarded you with.
maybe meeting him wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all, you two had an arrangement for a reason, to give your bodies to each other.
but he was with his friends, it would be quite rude and obnoxious of you to just ask him to get out of it and meet you, just because you feel more needy than usual.
there were other ways though.
you didn’t have to go for him at all.
it was dinnertime, you were too lazy to cook, it could just be that you were hungry and decided to pick up some food. isn’t it so convenient that the place so close to you with food also has namjoon in it? but it wasn’t about him at all, the last thing on your mind.
a solid plan, if you could say so yourself.
-
a gush of wind pushed past you as you stood before the door to the restaurant that held namjoon on the other side. the stars were hard to see as you looked up and took a few deep breaths, it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, so long since you’ve heard his voice, so long since you’ve touched him.
(it’s been two weeks, actually.)
did you want to do this?
is this how you wanted to see him again, with some elaborate ruse?
the answer was yes.
yes, you wanted to do this and yes, this was how you wanted to see him again because you quite literally couldn’t figure out another way to see him.
texting and asking to meet was so old-fashioned.
the loud ring of the bell above your head, made you flinch as you pushed in and a string of greetings from the waiters came toward you, you politely greeted them back but your fingers twitched as you started looking for the person you had come all dolled up for.
you mean, the dish you couldn’t wait to take home and scarf down.
you quickly stepped to the counter where the menu lay and started flipping through it, not caring or seeing anything.
then you heard it.
his laughter.
which through all the noise, somehow made it to your ears.
maybe you had been paying extra attention to hear him somewhere but for now, you will just say that his laughter was too loud because why would you want to hear him when you were here for something else?
nevertheless, a look wouldn’t hurt anyone. you could just see him, satisfy this urge in you, and go back home with warm food.
if you remember the story right (you did, you rewatched it fifty times), namjoon was sitting towards the left side with a group of around six people so, you slyly scanned the left side with eagle eyes.
one quick look.
and nothing else.
and.
nothing.
else.
you told yourself that, ordered yourself that you would not be talking to namjoon.
and there he was.
your breath paused.
he didn’t look anything different from the ordinary.
he was wearing his beige trousers and t-shirt, he was wearing his worn-out beanie, he was laughing with the people around him and it was so simple, so ordinary, a scene that you would see anywhere in any restaurant.
but you wanted to run to him and hold him close, let him warm you, let him run his fingers through your hair, let him never let you go.
and you knew how dangerous it was to feel this way and how this would end for you.
that’s when you saw it.
the fear in affection, that namjoon had so gently explained to you the other day.
your “quick look” lasted more than a few minutes but you were having trouble peeling your eyes away from him.
that was until, you saw his body sit straighter and start looking around, as if he could sense someone’s gaze on him (that was on you, you were probably burning holes into him with your eyes) and you turned your body completely to the other side.
you were just overthinking it, there’s no way namjoon would sense someone casually glancing at him.
“i’ll take this to go, please” you whispered to the person at the counter while hurriedly pointing to some random dish on the menu. they looked at you with an uneasy smile and nodded slowly, you must look crazy to them.
but that didn’t matter, as long as you got your food and you got the hell out of here before namjoon noticed you, you were good with whatever they thought of you.
you scrolled through your phone, still facing fully away from him, and waited for your order to come, your foot tapping restlessly against the floor.
you kept waiting.
and waiting.
and waiting.
why were they taking so long?
the pace at which your foot tapped against the floor increased as you started to grow anxious.
you couldn’t stay forever, namjoon might finish his dinner, he might walk out, passing right by you and you would have to talk then and that was just-
“what are you doing, standing here?”
the tapping of your foot stopped.
exactly what you were dreading.
or exactly what you were hoping for.
you are not sure which one it is anymore.
“oh hey.” you turn around with a lame wave of your hand at the man that you don’t know what you feel for. he was looking at you with crinkled eyes and a teasing smile that picked his cheeks up and made them round.
get a grip.
“you know, the chairs at a restaurant are for sitting.” you follow his gaze to the chairs lined up near the counter.
……
you had nothing to say to that.
“i came to pick up dinner, what are you doing here?” you asked, as if you didn’t know already and he pointed towards the table that you were staring at earlier. “just with a couple of friends, do you want to join us?”
it was your rule, one that you had established wordlessly, stating clearly that you were not meant to hang out with each other’s friends but you always had wondered what namjoon was like around his friends.
was he just as snarky?
was he just as wise?
did he have an answer to everything for them as well?
you let him take your hand and walk you to the loud table, the food that you hadn’t noticed, grew cold on the counter.
-
“namjoon used to be so uptight then, he didn’t even help us on the test, he told us, ‘ey, i won’t be there in the future to help you out, so figure your shit out’, and he said this for one math problem, for one stupid test!” his friend, yoongi, barked out with a deepened voice to imitate namjoon and you loved every minute of it, as your head fell back in laughter.
namjoon smiled sheepishly, though his eyes threw daggers at yoongi and hid his face behind his huge hands, turning away from you.
you found that especially adorable.
“what a narc” you shoved his shoulder and, everyone erupted into loud laughter around the table. namjoon squinted his eyes and tried to give you an intimidating glare, which soon melted into a smile when you raised your eyebrows at him.
it felt so good.
he had his arm around your shoulder, you were almost buried into his side, the soft scent of his perfume enveloped around you and his friends seemed to love you. and the best of all, his eyes gazed over you constantly, to check on you or look at you, you had no idea but you enjoyed the attention nonetheless.
only if what you had was real, only if you knew namjoon as much as they seemed to, only if you could grab his neck and kiss him.
you shook your head at those thoughts, whatever this comfort zone was, it was only for tonight, you would never hang out with his friends again or be around him in this way again. you were only allowing this for tonight.
but.
you liked this so much.
“you good?” namjoon pulled you in closer to whisper to you, his eyes assessing the frown growing on your face.
no, i suddenly want to know everything about you, after ages of being fine with knowing nothing.
“yeah, all good” you smiled at him, tipping back your glass to hide the building tension in your throat. everyone around the table started standing up and namjoon pulled you up as well, but his hand stayed around you, holding you gently yet in a way that wouldn’t make it too easy for you to let go.
“it was so nice meeting you.” another friend of his, seokjin, wrapped you in a hug as namjoon’s arm stayed around your back, you smiled and hugged everyone else, as much as you could with his arm on you and they started waving their goodbyes, leaving you and namjoon.
you didn’t want to say ‘well, good to see you, let’s go back to fucking next week’, you didn’t want to wave goodbye and leave the warmth that radiated off namjoon, you didn’t want to go home, and think too much about his hand on your waist.
and namjoon surprised you.
“your place?” he asked, leading you out into the cold night as well and you felt the weight of all your doubts levitate off you, you tried to not agree too quickly but you couldn’t help but nod eagerly which made him smile in response, pulling you in tighter.
you two walked leisurely, with all the time in the world in your hands, and the night got darker, colder, and namjoon’s grip on you got tighter, warmer.
you didn’t speak a word, only stole glances at his side profile every once in a while, to make sure that somehow you hadn’t conjured this from your dreams, that this was reality and namjoon was here.
“what’s on your mind?” he catches your eyes, which were admiring his jaw and you look away, wanting to disappear into the night. he tugs on your hand, to urge you to answer him and you do, “your friends are hilarious, i had a very good time so thank you for inviting me.” the ‘thank you’ came out more awkwardly than you had thought.
but thankfully, namjoon found you endearing so he laughs at your scrunched-up face.
“i mean you were right there, i wasn’t going to let you go and eat alone in your apartment. but what a coincidence, right? us turning up at the same place. besides, i was going to ask you to meet them soon anyway.” he had a lovely smile on his face, he seemed to find the idea very charming, that you had somehow stumbled on each other and a pang of guilt shot through you for orchestrating the whole thing.
and the guilt worsened as the television played mindlessly in the background, as your body tangled around his, as his breath came too close, too loud, and his hands gripped onto your hair. you felt him everywhere and nowhere around you, it unnerved you.
you pulled apart hastily, the simple, harmless lie you told was enough to put some invisible wall between you and him. it felt wrong that he thought it was some sweet moment but it wasn’t.
namjoon immediately retracted, pulling his hands to himself but remaining close as he watched your reaction carefully, “do you want me to leave? because it’s okay if you’re not in the mood or don’t want me around right now, i get it.” the sound of his even breaths, his soothing tone, forced you to look at him.
“i lied,” you expected it to be harder to tell him but it wasn’t, namjoon sat up with an eyebrow quirked up as you explained to him that your turning up at the pub was no coincidence, that you had come there after seeing his instagram story.
“that’s it?” you nodded, skin burning with embarrassment, only looking up when you heard his low, amused laughter. namjoon shook his head at you, “but why? you can always call me, you know, i loved that you met them and had a good time.” he reached over to shut off the television and pull your legs from under you and onto his lap, his fingers tapped your thighs as you fell back on the sofa, covering your face with your hands.
“i felt like i couldn’t,” maybe it was because your voice sounded so small, maybe because he finally saw how truly upset you were about this but namjoon pulled you back and rested your head on his shoulder, “you always can, it doesn’t matter how or what or where we are, just call me and i’ll be here to finish all of your wine,” though you laughed at his words and buried yourself further into his collarbone, you knew you weren’t telling him the simple truth.
that night, once again, you didn’t do anything, you absentmindedly watched some movie, you crawled into bed next to him, he kissed your forehead, and fell asleep.
“namjoon?” you whispered against his snores, he stirred ever so slightly, hands reaching up to pat where you were sleeping, hands relaxing when they touched you.
“yeah?” he groaned into the pillow, “i came because,” you started, words swallowing down your throat, words flying out of your mouth.
“yeah?” this time, he looked up with squinted, sleepy eyes, and your heart drowned in adoration at the sight.
because i missed you.
it was simple words but how awful would it be, if you uttered them, and your heart that was drowning with adoration now, would have nothing to drown for?
“i just wanted to see you,” because you missed him so desperately, and a text or call wouldn’t have fed the hunger your longing left you with.
“i’m glad, because i missed you,” he kissed your shoulder and turned away to continue his slumber.
and left you with the same simple words you had been too scared to utter.
somehow, namjoon always voiced the simple words, even if they were naked, he voiced them as if it was nothing to put your bleeding heart out on your sleeve because missing someone was intimate, it was dangerous.
and that���s when your heart drowns again, you finally realize that namjoon has gotten closer to you.
a little too close.
-
what does it take for a person to be close?
is it the physical distance that lessens with every breath?
is it the emotional distance that connects you with an invisible string from miles away?
being close to someone is a fickle thing.
a person who knows everything about you, may not feel close.
but a person who tries to know you, may feel close.
namjoon feels close.
nights pass where the line between what you and namjoon were and what you were supposed to be, blurred to oblivion. you stopped questioning what it was, you stopped counting the beats your heart skipped every time he showed up at your door.
this night, both physically and emotionally, namjoon is close.
“why do you always read romantic books?” he hums, casually, as things have always been between you two as his hand lazily runs across your hair. he isn’t prying, it’s just a mild curiosity.
but it’s a question no one’s ever asked you.
you read romance to feel the love you yearn for.
that is your answer, there is a yearning in you that isn’t quenched by anything else except books that put your longing in words. it’s an answer you can’t give to namjoon.
“they’re just fun” you shrug, looking up and hoping he would buy your lie. he does not, he doesn’t try to hide that he doesn’t believe you but with a small smile and shake of his head, he lets you live with the lie.
“the real thing’s more fun.”
you remained silent.
you hugged him closer.
you didn’t sleep that night.
-
“have you got everything?” namjoon said, as he loaded your bags into the back of his car, “you helped me pack yesterday, namjoon, and you drilled my head for hours after to make sure of it,” you rolled your eyes at him, and he chuckled, patting your head, “just checking.”
you ignored the rush of warmth that filled your fingertips and your toes, you and namjoon were heading out of the city, into a tiny, charming town with his friends where you would spend about four days in a cabin there.
and yes, you know what it sounds like but when you received a call from namjoon, his excited, hopeful voice, you could imagine his face reflecting all of that, and you couldn’t say no.
the drive up is short, you sleep through it and namjoon plays soothing songs to avoid waking you up. the cabin is beautiful but you already know that from pictures and upon arrival, you are greeted with loud shouts and long hugs from his friends, you almost melt from all the affection they shower you with.
“this is for you,” yoongi hums as he drops a keycard into the palm of your hands before disappearing into his room and you trudge up the stairs to reach yours.
of course, you aren’t surprised when you see namjoon unpacking his clothes into drawers once you open the door, you know you had to share a room with him, considering that you are a guest on this trip.
it did make you reluctant at first but now, you were just waiting for your feelings to set you ablaze to make themselves known.
“hey, you” namjoon sings as he walks past you, but not without dropping a kiss on your temple that has your shoulders stiffening and your face tingling. “we’re going out in a bit to start a barbeque, see you there?”
you nod, your stomach reeling from the subtle touch of his hands that brush your arms before walking out the door.
you fall on the bed with your head in your hands, on days like these, you wish you could walk up to namjoon and ask him, what did you mean to him? did he think of you in the darkness of the night? did he want you around always?
because you did.
but you couldn’t ask.
-
drinks were passed, fairy lights descended on you, and soft singing filled the air.
“and our wise namjoon was just telling us what love is,” yoongi dramatically gestured to his red-faced, swaying friends and your ears picked up, hoseok groaned, “what did he say though?”
“that love is wanting to know someone more every day,” hoots and cheers and teases filled the air as namjoon buried his face into the side of your arm and complained endlessly under his breath.
you tried to laugh but you wanted to know everything about namjoon, what did that say about you?
and he asked you about yourself all the time, what did that say about him?
the question left you uneasy and annoyed.
“there’s a lake just around here,” jungkook looked at everyone around him with a suspicious glint shining in his eyes, then he got up, “race you there!” he yelled and took off, heavy feet thudding on the soft ground and everyone squealed in delight as they followed him.
namjoon pulled your hand with his as the cold air rushed over your face, a smile was frozen on your face and you ran until your lungs burned. it was out of a movie, the way your hair flowed, the way your laughs blended into the night, the way namjoon couldn’t stop looking at you.
then, as you expected, jungkook got pushed into the lake, he surfaced to yell at jimin only to break into giggles, and soon, everyone was trying to push everyone.
but namjoon only wanted to push you.
you ran around, escaping his touch in mere seconds, looking back breathlessly to see if he was near, and when he did catch you, he didn’t just throw you in, he threw both of you together.
you fell into the water, a laughing, bumbling mess but as cold as the night was, namjoon was warm so you snuggled into his neck and he held you with strong arms that wouldn’t let you drown.
close.
namjoon was so close.
“oh god, the couple’s at it again,” jin groaned and splashed water on the two of you and namjoon laughed out loud, pushing more water onto jin’s face.
but jin was wrong.
“we’re not a couple,” you nervously laughed, hands instinctively loosening around namjoon’s neck and he froze under you, his hands loosening around you as well as he cleared his throat.
jin swam away before he had to deal with the tension between you two.
namjoon’s arms left your body and you felt something break inside you as he pulled himself out of the water and wordlessly offered you, his hand. you grabbed it unsurely, not looking at him either.
you both didn’t speak at all until you reached your room.
-
“why did you say that?”
“say what?” you sat on the bed, picking on the lint that gathered on the sheets, unwilling to look at him.
“don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about, you’re smarter than that and i know it,” namjoon pinned you with serious eyes, making your heart burn in your chest, “but we’re not a couple.” you whisper, hands tightening on the sheets.
namjoon sighed, a heavy sigh, a sigh that conveyed irritation, disappointment, and restrained anger.
“i don’t understand why you’re upset, we are not a couple,” your irritation reared its head and namjoon shook his head, sitting beside you.
“are we not?” his question is breathless, lifeless, it’s waiting for you to revive it, pour life into it, and your eyes water without any command from you.
you think of the nights you spent together, the laughs you laughed together, the meals you’ve eaten together, the words that grow into a tower between you two and you think, yes, perhaps you are a couple without ever knowing it.
but it wasn’t supposed to be this.
“we had an arrangement,” you fight on, “which went to shit the second you met my friends,” he counters and you bite your lip, annoyed.
“i didn’t plan for that to happen.”
“but it happened.”
“do you really not know?” he asks again, and you know what he’s going to say, you turn away, legs coming to close around your chest.
his eyes widened and with a smile filled that held gentle surprise, he spoke as if his own words shocked him, as if he couldn’t believe he brought them to life.
“i like you. no actually, i love you.”
“don’t.”
namjoon moves away, physically his body flinches from you.
you silently crawl up on the bed and lay your head on the pillow, you gather your courage which crumbles when he comes up too and his hands find yours, he squeezes in question, what do you mean?
why did it have to be him, of all people?
“don't like me cause i don't know how to like you back, not in the way you want and not in the way that will ever be enough for you,” you say quickly, wanting this torture inside you to give up and go home, so you can finally be at peace with yourself.
it took all of two minutes for namjoon to remove himself from you.
and he left you in the bed, you clutched the pillowcase as you heard his footsteps recede from the room and you flinched when the door shut.
you cried, you put your arms around yourself and cradled your face to sleep, maybe it would be nice to feel someone else hold you but you couldn't let that be namjoon, it had to be someone that you could hurt and be okay with it.
-
namjoon was ignoring you, he didn’t come back to the room that night and now, he was sitting a few feet away from you and you couldn’t ignore the way everyone glanced between you two.
“the fireworks will start at 8, everyone be back by then,” jin announced, receding from the gathering and going back into the home.
“come, okay? we’ve got drinks and food,” jungkook squeezed your shoulder as he walked past, of course, he noticed you and namjoon not talking and he was sweet for making sure you were coming. you gave him a weak smile and nod.
when you reach the place where fireworks are supposed to light up the sky, there’s only namjoon on the bench that was too long for just one person.
there was so much space.
there was so much place.
but you didn’t fit in there, not next to him.
your hands wrung the cardigan dangling on your arms as a sharp exhale tried to stabilize you.
you turn around to leave but stop in your tracks when his eyes fall on the back of your head. even without looking back, you know he’s seen you and if you left, you would feel even more pathetic.
“don’t go,” he whispers, it’s hard to hear him over the crickets chirping but his voice finds its way to you and you want to cry again, “even if we’re not talking, don’t go.”
so, you stay.
you look at the lake in front of namjoon and he looks at the empty bench next to him, he knows who should be there and you know who shouldn’t be there.
even far away, his presence suffocates you, not in a dangerous way, but in a way that you would forever want to be suffocated.
everyone else arrives loudly, carrying cans of beer and packets of food and some of them sit down, jungkook and jimin are kind enough to stand next to you and keep you company but even they know where you should’ve been instead.
the rest of the night, you remember in gaps.
you remember looking at his hand when everyone looked at the fireworks, you remember the way his face lit up with a thousand colors, you remember the way his voice cheered at the sight in the sky, you remember the way his skin traveled and embraced his body.
how was something as ordinary as skin, so extraordinary when it came to him?
you wanted to become one, to melt into him and never come back to your true self. your hand itched to touch, to reach out but instead, it tightens on your cardigan and you force yourself to look away.
-
when you got back home from the cabin, namjoon had dropped you at your room, carried your bags in, and left immediately after as if being in your presence was unbearable for him, which made you cry as soon as the door shut behind him.
now, you were in bed, it was tuesday and you had no one in your life again.
you watched your phone like a hawk, jumping at every ting! it made but it was never namjoon and you always found yourself wishing it was.
your arm dangled off the sofa as you watched kung fu panda play on the tv.
"your story might not have a happy beginning, but that does not make you who you are." soothsayer spoke on the screen and you watched with your lips between your teeth, ignoring the way your heart skipped over when the scene cut to the wise turtle, oogway.
you didn’t want to think of namjoon, you didn’t want to think of his laugh when you called him a wise turtle nor did you want to think of how you could be watching this with him right now.
but he was out of your life now.
and you didn’t know how to live it anymore.
you suddenly were too aware of how lonely you were and too aware of how no one could soothe the loneliness nor cure it.
you saw the book he had given you that was on your coffee table still, you saw his wine glass that was tucked away in a corner of your kitchen, you saw his sweater that you never bothered giving back and you felt yourself crumble from within.
when someone leaves your life, the life you had before them seems alien, not yours.
and your life, right now, was just not yours.
-
“but he wasn’t even that good-looking, so it wasn’t too sad,” your friends laughed around the table as one of them spoke, you raised your glass to your lips and sipped to kill the words inside you.
but my man was beautiful, my man was everything, so it is sad for me.
when your friends called you to meet up, it seemed like a beacon of light shoved into your life and you immediately accepted, you had to go back to your life before namjoon.
“i don’t think i’ve ever liked anyone enough to be sad after we break up,” one of them sighed and the rest followed.
but i’m so sad.
“but how do we know if we like someone that much?”  you asked silently, not really meaning to and all their heads snapped to you.
“i’ve only loved that much once, and it was…strange, none of me felt like me anymore, i guess you without them stops making sense,” your friend said, her eyes shimmered with memories of her past love. the ball in your throat grew tighter and it wound itself around your entire being.
you without namjoon, didn’t make sense.
and you were close to letting him out of your life forever.
you pushed against the table, hands shaking but you were so determined, it was suddenly too clear that you needed him.
“guys, i have to go.” they all smiled and giggled as they watched you run out of the restaurant.
-
you ran into the pouring rain, water splashed on your sneakers and your jeans but you kept pushing forward.
if you lose namjoon now, you will never forgive yourself, if you lose him after finally realizing that you need him in your life, you will never recover from the pain.
your hands hurriedly stuffed into your bag, pulling out your phone and checking his instragram, you were blessed with a view of his home and book in his stories so you wasted no time in dialing his number, pressing it to your ear and praying to every raindrop falling on you that he would pick up.
he picked up.
you stopped in your tracks.
there was only his breathing on the other side, some static noises too, and still just the simple act of him picking up the call had you sighing out in relief.
“namjoon, please come out,” you whispered, eyes lining with tears that would join the rain on your face and he sighed, you held your breath until he spoke.
then, after a pregnant silence, he sighed again, “okay.”
you cut the call and started running again, renewed energy slammed on the ground as you ran for your life, for your love.
as you finally reached his apartment, your heart raced with anticipation. the running left you breathless, the rain was merciless but the thought of seeing him filled you with an energy that surpassed any physical exhaustion.
and you bent over, catching your breath, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. your mind raced with thoughts of what to say, how to express the feelings swirling within you. with each cough, you felt the intensity of your emotions grow, this moment, this night, this rain could change everything for you.
but you knew that whatever you said, whatever you decided to reveal, it would come from ages of knowing but denying your heart.
when someone you love leaves your life, the life you had before them stops making sense, that’s when the hollowness comes in, that’s when you realize you need them.
and you were done, you were done hiding and you were pretending that you didn’t want him under your very skin.
then, the rain stops.
to correct it, the rain stops falling on your head.
you see his shoes in front of you and muffle the cry that erupts in your throat.
you look up impatiently, so quickly that namjoon jerks back and you curse yourself with every word possible, how did you ever deny yourself of him?
“why are you here?” namjoon tries to stay stoic, and cool, even as his hands scream at him to pull you to him, to let his skin become yours and instead, his hands tighten on the umbrella he’s holding over you.
“i was wrong that day,” you gasped out, and his heart lurched even as he tried not to hope for too much, “which day?”
“when i tried to act like we weren’t anything, i was wrong, namjoon, so terribly wrong,” you shook your head at yourself, pushing your hair away from your face, your chin trembled as you tried to talk to the one person who made your heart run like a racehorse.
“and i was so scared, but i should have never lied to you or myself just because i was scared,” he listened, patient as ever, but you saw his eyes go red and the way his nose twitched with a sniff.
“but why were you scared? it’s just me,” he laughed, as if he wasn’t the most extraordinary person ever, as if everything he spoke didn’t carry a bit of magic, as if he wasn’t magic himself.
“i was scared because,” you swallowed, can you say it out loud?
something about the rain made everything look so beautiful, so pure, so vulnerable but it made your heart feel so heavy, feel so filled with dread that it might burst, because if he didn’t believe you, if he laughed and walked away, you wouldn’t know how to live with yourself.
his hand snaked up your arm and something tender floated in the air around you, something that made you feel so close to namjoon, something that felt so right. but you weren't speaking a word, nor were you touching him, but you were in front of him and he was in front of you, and just like this, you felt as if someone had laid you bare.
“when i hold me, it's imperfect, i don't touch all of me and that's fine, it's just me, but if i don't hold you perfectly, the way you deserve, i might just die from guilt,” you breathed out, chin trembling again and namjoon held your jaw, and your eyes fell close.
“if i hurt you, i can never come back from it because you’re a good person, you don’t hesitate to say things like, ‘i miss you’ or ‘i saw this and i thought of you’, but those things scare me, i’ve never said them before.”
“but?” he mused, pushing your hair behind your ear and you curled into his palm, leaning your entire face on it.
you laughed, it wasn’t happy, it wasn’t sad, it was just a sound, “but i don’t know to live without you, i need you, i miss you even when you’re away for a second, i think of you in every movie i watch and i see you in some or the other character in every book i read, i see you everywhere in my life and i need you in it.”
“my life isn’t mine without you, i love you.” you pleaded.
and everything was silent for a second, he looked at you, you looked at him, you felt his skin become yours again, you felt the relief flooding in you but you also felt desperate to hear his voice.
“at some point, you’re going to need someone to hold you, the right way i mean” namjoon spoke finally, and you nodded, grabbing onto his shirt, “it needs to be you.”
namjoon’s never been able to deny you of anything at all so he says, “it will be me. now, come here,” he pulled on your arm until you fell on his chest and the rest of the world fell into place for you, you gripped onto him as if someone was going to take him away and namjoon laughed, kissing your forehead, which sent a numbing tingle all over your body.
“i love you too.” it felt right, you didn’t want to run away and take back everything you said, you wanted to hear him say it again and again, you wanted to say it again and again.
being close to someone is a fickle thing.
a person who knows everything about you, may not feel close.
but a person who tries to know you, may feel close.
and namjoon was so close that it didn’t make sense, like many stories you’ve read in your life, but it didn’t have to.
because from now on, he was you, and you were him.
and from now on, you and him, are the magical story that you would tell to everyone else.
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chasingrainbowsforever · 7 months ago
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Anna Mila Guyenz by Greg Swales for Vogue Taiwan, August 2019 
Stylist: Melina Chen 
Hair: Keiichiro Hirano 
Makeup: Emily Mergaert
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tinyreviews · 7 months ago
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Tiny Review: A Man 2022. Investigative procedural with a theme of identity.
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I like the 1st act, where the mystery is set up in a heartwarming manner. The procedural 2nd act is good too. But the last act kinda peters out. I think it’s because there isn’t really any shocking or twist reveal.
That ending scene left me wondering what happened though. And it took me a while to puzzle out what happened: Akira finally understood the appeal of switching identities.
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A Man (Japanese: ある男, "Aru otoko") is a 2022 Japanese psychological thriller film directed by Kei Ishikawa, based on a novel with the same name by Keiichiro Hirano. It stars Sakura Andô, Satoshi Tsumabuki, and Yôko Maki.
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centralblogsnoticias · 6 months ago
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Mude seu futuro para reescrever o passado
“ As pessoas pensam que só o futuro pode ser mudado, mas na verdade, o futuro está continuamente a mudar o passado . O passado pode e muda. É extremamente sensível e delicadamente equilibrado .” -Keiichiro Hirano, No final da matinê Quando pensamos no tempo, tendemos a dividi-lo em três dimensões: passado, presente, futuro. Também tendemos a aceitar certas crenças sobre cada dimensão sem muito…
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detournementsmineurs · 9 months ago
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"A Man" de Kei Ishikawa - adapté du roman éponyme de Keiichiro Hirano (2018) - avec Satoshi Tsumabuki, Sakura Andô, Masataka Kubota, Yūmi Kawai, Yōko Maki, Kazutoyo Koyabu et le jeune Manato Sakamoto, février 2024.
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straycatboogie · 1 year ago
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2023/07/19 English
BGM: The Jesus and Mary Chain - I Love Rock 'N' Roll
Today I worked late. This morning I went to the library and borrowed a collection of romantic sonnets in England. After that, I started writing today's poem at the AEON's food court. Recently I am busy so can't stay and enjoy chatting on Discord to chill. I am sorry for my absence. Next Saturday I will be able to get a day off, and I want to enjoy small talk even though I have to make up the record of the meeting about autism on last Sunday. I wrote a draft of my poem so roughly. Although I want to open it to the world (for example, on Facebook). But I won't. I want to be modest to open it because I don't want to treat my readers so rudely. I need the time to make my head cool. I start reading a long interview with Shuntaro Tanikawa, and find that I have never known about him almost completely. We can find his works almost everywhere. On the textbooks, advertisements, the cartoon "PEANUTS" he had translated... But I have not learned how he had lived. This is a good opportunity for me. What can I learn?
And evening time, at the resting time of my work, I write my poem completely once more. On a Telegram group, I asked the admin to introduce my poetry blog. Oh my gosh, my life goes around the poetry nowadays. This maniac personality is one of the characters of autism. As I wrote yesterday, I have a friend as a YouTuber. Although I can't have followed his videos, I start thinking that I could add my poems to the melody he writes. Yes, a collaboration. Or another friend's paintings and my poetry... my dreams increase. It makes me happy, and also lets me feel grateful in the current situation. Now I just need to enrich my collection of poetry to wait the time because it is too early. I need the time to realize these collaborations. I share some pics of "本の蔵". I start thinking that I would like to afford the first collection of my poetry to them to share with the customers if I could make it. Can I use the friend's painting as its cover? And I also want to share the income from the book by selling it with her. Of course, this is just a plan. I need to collect my poems.
Is there any writer who had become famous in his/her late stage of life? I adored the writes who had appeared young enough and become famous immediately. Just like Keiichiro Hirano (although I have never read his works), and Ryu Murakami. But I can't become like them. I need to accept that I am lesser than them, and I never have the great talent... I just try to make my talent grow higher steadily, step by step. Then I could become a great old writer as Atsushi Mori and Charles Bukowski. Of course, maybe I couldn't become because there must be a lot of amateur writers who couldn't show their talents. There must be the writers who had been praised after their death like Franz Kafka. I can't control that I would be praised, or become popular. I just make my efforts to keep on writing my best, and try to show it to the world. They are the things I can control. I just do them and wait for the result. God will help me.
I had drunk a lot of alcohol in my young days, and now have a regret a little. I needed to care myself more preciously. But at that period I couldn't see that, and there was no person who said to me "Treat yourself precious". Now I just try to keep/save my inner fire of vitality, and walk forward one by one. I try to write my poems one by one, slowly, slowly... I think that this is really a miracle because I am still alive. Now, luckily, my fire still works. Keep this fire and try to live in my 50s and 60s... to leave the great works as Yoshikichi Furui and Haruki Murakami. Once I felt that I must be sinful because I couldn't have found any purpose or dream in my life. Why had I learned English literature at Waseda? But now, I feel that everything was to be here. I just gripped my interest, and tried to dig it to the other side of this planet even though I have no talent. A long and winding road... to be here. Now the scenery is wide. What kind of inspiration falls from the sky?
The Hearts are Still Blue
The high school was like a battle place Smart students were trying to be an ace How would they become? Any famous magazine's face? Outsiders like me actually needed a grace
The Blue Hearts sang their anthem "TRAIN-TRAIN" They declared to go their way through very heavy rain I adored them. I carried my Walkman like the drink "REGAIN" I enjoyed their songs a lot although they must never refrain
And now... time must fly. But on YouTube I try I revisit the battle field with "The Catcher in The Rye" I don't want to tell any lie, but you say I'm sly?
The Blue Hearts says simplicity is the key So don't be afraid. Be yourself cause you're free I write this one with a smile of toy monkey
*1 The Blue Hearts is a Japanese punk band
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weirdesplinder · 3 years ago
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Romanzi giapponesi o dal sapore giapponese
Se come me anche a voi ogni tanto nella lettura viene voglia di provare qualcosa di nuovo, e leggere romanzi dal sapore esotico, di autori orientali o ambientati in paesi orientali di cui spesso si legge fin troppo poco, questo post potrebbe fare per voi.
Da fan del Giappone, essendo cresciuta a pane, nutella e cartoni giapponesi, ho creato una brevissima lista di romanzi di uatori giapponesi o ambientati in Giappone che vi consiglio di leggere.
Nella lista non trovere autori famosi come Banana Yoshimoto o Haruki Murakami, di cui vi ho già parlato precedentemente in altri post e che tutti consigliano, ho cercato di presentarvi qualcosa di nuovo, o meglio di meno conosciuto.
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Namiko e i giardini di Kyoto, di Andreas Sechè
Link: https://www.amazon.it/Namiko-giardini-Kyoto-Andreas-S%C3%A9ch%C3%A9/dp/8804746114/
Trama: Quando un giornalista tedesco di ventinove anni si reca in Giappone per un reportage sull’arte dei giardini, non può certo prevedere che questo viaggio cambierà la sua vita per sempre. Nel corso delle sue passeggiate nei giardini di Kyoto incontra infatti la misteriosa e sensibile studentessa Namiko, custode di un rapporto intimo con la natura, e ne rimane immediatamente affascinato. Ascoltandola ripercorrere l’arte millenaria che rende questi giardini spazi di meditazione e armonia, si rende conto che la donna sussurra e che il tono sommesso della sua voce regala alle parole un’intensità e un significato del tutto nuovi, in grado di toccare le corde più profonde dell’anima. Namiko sussurra non solo con le parole, ma anche con i gesti, lo sguardo e il tatto. Per il giornalista è solo il primo passo di un lungo viaggio, dentro una cultura celata nei caratteri della scrittura e nei tradizionali kúan che il protagonista inizierà a comprendere con l’aiuto del padre di Namiko. Finché una notte, seduto al fianco della giovane donna nel “giardino dei sospiri alla luna” ad ascoltare la melodia di un flauto tradizionale, si troverà a dover prendere una decisione difficile e da cui non potrà tornare indietro.
La mia opinione: Romanzo rosa che definirei minimalista, ma molto poetico. Lo consiglio solo se amate le storie calme e lente, molto riflessive.
La cartella del professore di Hiromi Kawakami  
Link:  https://www.amazon.it/cartella-del-professore-Supercoralli-ebook/dp/B005VOHDKA/
Trama: Tsukiko ha poco meno di quarant'anni. Vive sola, e dopo il lavoro frequenta uno dei tanti piccoli locali di Tòkyo dove con una modica spesa si possono mangiare ottimi manicaretti e bere qualche bicchiere di birra o di sake. E un'abitudine molto diffusa fra gli uomini della metropoli, meno fra le donne. In una di queste occasioni incontra il suo insegnante di giapponese, che riconosce, malgrado i tempi del liceo siano ormai lontani, quando lo sente ordinare le stesse pietanze. Tsukiko e il prof, come lei lo chiama, iniziano a parlare e trovano subito un'intesa nella loro passione per il cibo. I tanti manicaretti della delicata cucina giapponese accompagnano gli incontri mai programmati, ma non per questo meno frequenti, di due persone cosi diverse eppure simili nella quieta accettazione della propria solitudine, e ogni incontro rappresenta un impercettibile avvicinamento, serve a chiarire dubbi e fraintendimenti. Ma la donna fatica a trovare una sua dimensione adulta, e il professore - che è vedovo e ha settanta anni - non riesce a uscire dal suo passato di marito e insegnante. Arriva la stagione dei funghi, le ferie di Capodanno passano senza allegria, poi fioriscono i ciliegi, si organizza una gita che delude le aspettative e termina, come tante serate, nel torpore dell'alcol... Trascorrono cosi due anni. E dopo infiniti appuntamenti, giunge il momento in cui il prof vince il pudore e chiede a Tsukiko se accetterebbe di frequentarlo "con la prospettiva di stringere una relazione amorosa"...   
La mia opinione: questo libro ha avuto un grandissimo successo in Giappone, se non sbaglio ne hanno tratto anche un anime o un manga o una web story. Forse non tratta di un tipo di coppia che noi di solito cercheremmo in un libro data la loro fascia d’età. Ma se non si presta attenzione a quello mentre si legge, il libro funziona veramente come storia d’amore positiva, cosa raraissima nei romanzi degli autori giapponesi.
La voce delle onde, di Yukio Mishima    
Link: https://www.amazon.it/voce-delle-onde-Yukio-Mishima/dp/880788755X/
Trama: Senza mai chetarsi, ora infuriata ora implacabile, la voce delle onde ci accompagna durante tutta la lettura di questo romanzo. Si tratta di una storia d'amore che sulla sponda del mare nasce e si sviluppa, raggiungendo apici di toccante e poetica spontaneità e semplicità. La vita, fatta di coraggio e di sacrificio, di un povero villaggio di pescatori giapponesi è lo sfondo per le uscite sul mare in tempesta, la pesca delle perle e i convegni d'amore di due giovani protagonisti, Shinji e Hatsue, su al tempio di Yashiro, che dall'alto del monte domina l'Isola del canto - Uta-jima - come armoniosamente la chiamano i suoi abitanti.   
La mia opinione: classico della letteratura giapponese ormai consolidato, molto poetico, anche se non proprio ottimista o positivo...siete avvertiti.
                La storia di Genji, di Shikibu Murasaki                 Link: https://www.amazon.it/storia-Genji-Shikibu-Murasaki/dp/8806226533
Trama: I molti amori di Genji lo Splendente, l'arte, la musica, la fortuna e le tragedie inaspettate, le lotte per il potere, l'eleganza e la malinconia del Giappone feudale; un mondo affascinante e impalpabile. Accolta a corte per la sua fama di donna amante della letteratura, Murasaki Shikibu, dama dell'entourage dell'imperatrice Shoshi, compone il Genji monogatari nel primo decennio dopo l'anno mille. Immaginata come intrattenimento per la parte femminile dell'aristocrazia, l'opera di Murasaki non è solo diventata il «classico tra i classici» della letteratura giapponese, ma un classico della letteratura mondiale.      
La mia opinione: non è un semplice romanzo storico, ma il romanzo giapponese più antico che sia giunto fino a noi. Ha  lo stesso fascino delle opere degli csrittori greci dell’epoca classica o del Decamerone o della leggenda di Beowolf.
          Dopo lo spettacolo, di Hirano Keiichiro    
Link: https://www.amazon.it/Dopo-lo-spettacolo-Keiichiro-Hirano/dp/8833530639/
Trama: Può il futuro cambiare il passato? Il chitarrista Makino Satoshi e la giornalista Komine Yoko scoprono una rara intesa, che va ben oltre l'attrazione reciproca. Ma la vita dei due quarantenni è già piena di persone, di eventi, di sentimenti e di paure che rischiano di vanificare il miracolo di quell'incontro. E intanto il mondo si muove intorno a loro, con le sue crisi politiche ed economiche, con le sue guerre e i suoi disastri naturali. Cosa significa affrontare da soli le difficoltà della vita e le proprie insicurezze, pur sapendo che esiste, altrove, qualcuno la cui sola presenza ci rende la persona che vorremmo essere? Hirano ci parla di sentimenti, della percezione di sé, dell'importanza del presente e del modo in cui viviamo le nostre relazioni e ci rapportiamo al mondo che ci circonda.     
La mia opinione: romanzo contemporaneo che non posso definire rosa seppure contenga una stori d’amore , poichè come spesso fanno gli autori giapponesi non considerano l’amore separato dalla società, dalla morale, dalle circostanze e dalla concezione di se stessi. Eppure questo è molto più romantico di molti altri romanzi giapponesi.
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isbraveandwild · 1 year ago
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A man (2022) dir. Kei Ishikawa
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britomart · 3 years ago
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His drawings and paintings didn’t suggest any kind of special talent. But they weren’t terrible either. They made Rié think of the pictures drawn by the boy who had been the best artist in her class at middle school. For most people, drawing pictures was something you did during arts and crafts time until you graduated from middle school and then immediately gave it up. His work was what you would expect from a random adult if you handed them a paintbrush and drawing paper out of the blue, employing technique that had not evolved since adolescence. Yet while everyone else had stopped, for some reason this man had kept on going. And so what if his artistic proficiency remained frozen. But what about his level of maturity? Whether you wanted to call it growing up or growing old, wasn’t hanging on to such innocence supposed to be against the rules? I mean, here was a full-grown adult, probably in his mid-thirties, around the same age as Rié herself. And he had not stopped at drawing just one of these pure, carefree pictures for a laugh. He had gone on silently filling whole sketchbooks with them. Rié found this deeply touching.
Keiichirō Hirano, A Man (trans. Eli K.P. William)
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commonplacenook · 2 years ago
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She felt a disjunction similar to the optical illusion where train tracks stretching into the distance appear to converge at the vanishing point, but as station after station goes by, the view ahead never changes, and the parallel rails of course never meet.
Keiichiro Hirano, At the End of the Matinee
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booksalves · 3 years ago
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Listening to a musical theme develop, you can come to see that it contained a certain potentiality all along. Once you follow it to the end, the theme never sounds the same again. A bud that you look at knowing nothing of the flower to come isn't the same as the bud you look back on in memory with the flower before you. Music doesn't just progress forward in a straight line but works backward into the past as well. Without understanding that, you would never appreciate the fascination of the fugue... People think that only the future can be changed, but in fact, the future is continually changing the past. The past can and does change. It's exquisitely sensitive and delicately balanced.
Keiichiro Hirano, At the End of the Matinee
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cloudblack · 5 years ago
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In Burial Mound Park, I saw the abandoned shell of a cicada stuck to a cherry tree. In the upper branches, many cicadas were singing. I listened carefully, trying to find the voice of the cicada that had flown from the shell. I imagined how it must have sounded to the shell to hear the voice of the body that had been inside it under the earth for seven years.
— Keiichiro Hirano, A Man [ある男] (2017, trans. Eli K. P. William, 2020)
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