Oh, the end.

When I finish reading a book, my heart spreads out like a plain. I also have a loneliness like I’m going to look back without being able to feel excited anymore. At those times I turn another page.

I wonder how vast the world can be. I wonder how many variations there can be in the words people have.

But… The one I finished reading now was a very, very short and small love story with just a few words.

Everyone who passes by everyday on the street corner forgets likes it’s ordinary.

Before school in the classroom, I go through the still-young heroines.

In the crowds in buildings in the evening, I search for secret love partners I can’t tell to anyone.

When the day ends and I’m in bed, the words I’ve softly repeated so many times.

I wonder what kind of book I’ll read tomorrow. biography would be nice. So would putting together a dictionary of countries I haven’t seen yet in the library.

But I’ll buy another mountain of thin paperbacks at the bookstore, and put in my favorite bookmark at the park.

Good night. Sweet dreams.