tabtabt The day next to the day when we had met at Peter Pan, upon my second journey to look for her, there could never be other places than Peter Pan, where I should have visited firstly. I went up the stairs of the shop again, standing in front of the big door (a handmade-like wooden door, in the inch scale, bigger than the Japanese scale in both width and height), and turned the knob. As I felt a strong resistance to my fingers, I cast my eyes up and found a notice before me. "We are closed today, sorry. - Peter Pan -"

tabtabt I felt pushed down from the narrow stairs of Peter Pan falling on my back. (To my knowledge, this shop had not closed in their own convenience ever once.) I completely lost my orientation (a sense of direction) on the first step for this search. I wandered about the streets aimlessly and before I knew, I was in West Park. I walked all over the large park and I had stood before the southern rail in sight of the Hirose River again. Under my eyes, marking off the extent of about a tennis court, the regrettable snow which was not trampled down so far, remained remarkably in white

tabtabt I got over the rail, descended the steep slant by way of sliding down, came into the riverside, picked up a piece of wood being dropped there, and proceeded to the canvas just stretched in snow-white. On the wide surface of the snow, taking care not to leave footprints as possible, I engraved the letters "CHAO" into big shape. I return to the rail of the park and look at the letters again; engraved with the stick, baring the ground color as black as soil, the letters were clearly readable even in the dark for the given name of whom I loved.