Difference between revisions of "Kara no Kyoukai:Chapter05 00"
(It should be 8 years old not 18 years old...) |
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| − | When I was young, that piece of metal was my treasure. |
+ | When I was young, that piece of metal was my treasure.<br> |
| − | Bulky, rough, small, only functionality. |
+ | Bulky, rough, small, only functionality.<br> |
| − | The silver piece was cold, and to my memory, holding it tightly hurt me. |
+ | The silver piece was cold, and to my memory, holding it tightly hurt me.<br> |
| − | Click, and it |
+ | Click, and it spun the beginning of the day half way.<br> |
| − | Click, and it |
+ | Click, and it spun the end of the day half way.<br> |
| − | The young |
+ | The young me felt honored whenever I heard the sound.<br> |
| − | However, whenever I heard the sound I could feel my eyes water. |
+ | However, whenever I heard the sound, I could feel my eyes water.<br> |
| − | Click, click, once at the beginning, once at the end. |
+ | Click, click, once at the beginning, once at the end.<br> |
| − | It would circle around a day, and it repeated circling. |
+ | It would circle around a day, and it repeated circling.<br> |
| − | Circle and circle, never |
+ | Circle and circle, never tiring, never complaining.<br> |
| − | Half joy, half sorrow. The days it circled without a surprise were like |
+ | Half joy, half sorrow. The days it circled without a surprise were like a barber pole.<br> |
| − | But the endless days ended without a warning. |
+ | But the endless days ended without a warning.<br> |
| − | The silver piece was only cold --- no joy. |
+ | The silver piece was only cold --- no joy.<br> |
| − | If I held it tightly, I bled ----- no sorrow. |
+ | If I held it tightly, I bled ----- no sorrow.<br> |
| − | Obvious. A piece of metal is a piece of a metal. There is no fantasy. |
+ | Obvious. A piece of metal is a piece of a metal. There is no fantasy.<br> |
| − | When I became |
+ | When I became an 8-year-old who knows reality, the piece of metal was no more glittery.<br> |
| − | Then I realized, that becoming a grown-up is selling fantasy for wisdom. |
+ | Then I realized, that becoming a grown-up is selling fantasy for wisdom.<br> |
Because I thought doing so was so premature, I thought the fact was something to be proud of. |
Because I thought doing so was so premature, I thought the fact was something to be proud of. |
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Latest revision as of 08:37, 6 January 2012
When I was young, that piece of metal was my treasure.
Bulky, rough, small, only functionality.
The silver piece was cold, and to my memory, holding it tightly hurt me.
Click, and it spun the beginning of the day half way.
Click, and it spun the end of the day half way.
The young me felt honored whenever I heard the sound.
However, whenever I heard the sound, I could feel my eyes water.
Click, click, once at the beginning, once at the end.
It would circle around a day, and it repeated circling.
Circle and circle, never tiring, never complaining.
Half joy, half sorrow. The days it circled without a surprise were like a barber pole.
But the endless days ended without a warning.
The silver piece was only cold --- no joy.
If I held it tightly, I bled ----- no sorrow.
Obvious. A piece of metal is a piece of a metal. There is no fantasy.
When I became an 8-year-old who knows reality, the piece of metal was no more glittery.
Then I realized, that becoming a grown-up is selling fantasy for wisdom.
Because I thought doing so was so premature, I thought the fact was something to be proud of.
／Paradox Spiral
