Dey
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pm | | The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (15th Dec 22 at 12:33am UTC) | | "Where did you disappear?" I added feebly, "Like the morning dew in summer." Or like the stars at dawn. She put the chicory leaves into her mouth with a fork. Then, like a tomb, he remembered an appointment in the past and reached for a cup of water. So, I'm afraid you want to know what happened to the money? The money you took the day before yesterday. Well, isn't it? "I want to know very much." I say You can say it to me, but it may take a long time. Can we finish the dessert before it comes? "I'm afraid it's very difficult." Said Akasaka Nutmeg. Chapter 9 Bottom of the well Down the iron ladder to the dark bottom of the well, I was still groping for the baseball bat against the wall as I had done before. That's what I took back almost subconsciously from the guitar box man. In the darkness at the bottom of the well, he grasped the black and blue stick in his hand and felt a sense of relief, which was really incredible. This relief helped me to focus my mind. So I still put my stick at the bottom of the well every time-I didn't bother to carry it up and down the ladder every time. Whenever I find a stick, I'm like a baseball player standing in the pool area, grasping the handle tightly with both hands to make sure it's my stick. Then they checked whether things had changed one by one in the darkness. I turned up my ears, inhaled the air into my heart, tested the soil under my feet with the soles of my shoes,Brushless Gear Motor, and tapped the wall of the well with a stick to measure its hardness. But this is just a ritual to calm the mind. The bottom of the well is very similar to the deep sea floor. All the matter here keeps its original shape quietly as if it were pressed by pressure, and does not change as the stars move. The light hovered in a circle overhead. The twilight sky. I looked up and thought about the world at dusk in October. There should be people's lives there. In the light autumn sunshine, they walk on the street, or buy goods, or prepare meals,24v Gear Motor, or go home in the tram, and regard it as-or do not care to regard it as-a very logical thing without special thinking, as I used to do. They are abstract beings called "people", and I was once a nameless member of them. Under the autumn light, people accept someone and be accepted by someone. Whether it is held forever or only for a while, there should be relatives and friends shrouded in sunshine. But I'm not in it anymore. They are above the ground, and I am at the bottom of the deep well. They have the light and I am losing it. From time to time, I flashed a little doubt, fearing that I would never return to that world, that I would never be able to appreciate the comfort of being surrounded by light, brushless gear motor ,Micro Gear Motor, and that I could no longer hold the soft body of the cat in my arms. When I think about it, there is a kind of stuffy colic in my chest. But in the time it took me to dig the soft ground with the soles of my rubber shoes, the surface of the earth gradually moved away from me. The sense of reality is a little thin, and the warmth of the well wraps me up. The bottom of the well is warm and quiet, and the tenderness of the deep earth soothes my skin. The pain in the chest was gradually diluted as the ripples disappeared. Accept me here, I accept here. I held the handle of the ball tightly, closed my eyes, opened them again, and looked up. Then I pulled the rope overhead and closed the manhole cover (the ingenious cinnamon made a pulley so I could close the manhole cover by myself from the bottom of the well), and the darkness was perfect. The mouth of the well was sealed, the light could not flow in, and sometimes the wind came. I am completely cut off from "people". I didn't bring a flashlight, either. It's like some kind of confession of faith. I am showing them that I am accepting the darkness unconditionally. I sat on the ground with my back against the concrete wall, my baseball bat between my knees, and closed my eyes. I listen attentively to the sounds of my heart. In the dark, of course, there is no need to close your eyes, anyway, nothing to see. But I closed it. No matter how dark you are, the act of closing your eyes has its own meaning. I took several deep breaths to get my body used to the deep, dark cylindrical space. There is the same breath and the same feeling of air as in the past. At one point, the well was completely buried, but the air in it was almost uncannily the same as before. It's a little musty and a little damp. It's no different from what I first smelled at the bottom of the well. There is no season, not even time. I still wear my old tennis shoes and my plastic watch. It's my shoes and watch from the first time I went down the well. Like the baseball cotton, this shoe and this watch can also calm my mood.
In the darkness, I confirmed that these objects were indeed firmly attached to my body and that I was not separated from myself. I opened my eyes and then closed them a little bit, so that I could get close to and get used to the dark pressure inside me and the dark pressure around me. Time is running out. In a short time, the boundary between the two kinds of darkness could not be well distinguished, and it was not even clear whether the eyes were closed or open. The mole on the cheek began to warm faintly, presumably with a bright purple color. I focused my mind on the clear in a mixture of different kinds of darkness, thinking about the room. I tried to leave myself, as I had done with "them,small geared motors," to detach myself from my clumsy body curled up in the dark. Now I am nothing more than an empty house, nothing more than an abandoned well. I was ready to escape from it and transfer to the reality of different speeds-while gripping a baseball bat with both hands. It is only a wall that now separates me here from that wonderful room. I should be able to get through this wall, through my own strength and the strength of the deep darkness here. ichgearmotor.com | |
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