tabtabt Was it impossible for me to take charge of a letter to her agent? Or else, was there any problem to ask the agent frankly "Would you guide me to her."? With the present finality, it seems excessively obvious that even if the agent was not trusted explicitly, the mission of the agent was to guide me to where she was, either inviting me directly or indirectly. What she intended to hand me charging her agent was clearly that thread-ball of the Ariadne's thread of life. The thread-ball had rolled out to wrong direction turning away from my hands.

tabtabt Although I grasped a key in my hand, I did not aware the fact. My eyes dimmed by the emotions could not see what could be seen. Should the interpretation that my eyes were shut by somebody not me, hold in the case indeed?

tabtabt The concert had ended and my wife already had returned home. On a day, several days after, I casually dropped in Peter Pan again. Then and there, I met Chao once more. It was the last.

tabtabt Chao took her seat in a straight-forward sight from the entrance, that is, on a bench at the windows near the counter. She, recognizing me, raised a voice "God!", standing up, clutching her bag, passing by my side, jumped out towards the streets in full power of a rabbit run away from a hunter.

tabtabt At the time, Chao wore in a mysterious hair style. I don't know whether there is or not such a hair-liquid as can straighten frizzling Afro hair like that. I sometimes wonder might it be a false hair.