“. . . But I was convinced that I was special, and I was searching for the thing that set me apart from everyone else . . . when I look back on it now, I tell myself . . . ''I was so young back then.'' But that's just a justification. So now . . . I spend my days living in fear of something spilling out of my heart . . . like water from a bowl, escaping the limits of surface tension.

Mr. Onodera . . . are you happy now?

I have acceptance . . . but not satisfaction. Really . . . I just want to be able to focus on my pottery . . . that's all. But as you get older . . . you become afraid of losing things, even if they're worthless.”