a believing of the marrow
mei ehara - 悲しい運転手 I feel it with every weight on my body— the flesh that clings to the bone, not knowing about the marrow within, not knowing it is what keeps them alive. That life means something— whatever meaning I give it. Not as a God, but as someone trying, as someone clinging to the bone, believing in the marrow, that sweet, supple softness. Should I find the bone hollow, well, it should only matter then that I had something to cling to. And that will be enough. I will die with it. I will let it go.