Today I worked late. The morning I felt a slight depression without any certain reasons. I could do nothing and thought that my life was at a dead end. But I couldn't stop working so went out of my group home and been to the library. I had thought that I would borrow Faulkner's book, but I found that there was Le Clézio's new book "Bitna, sous le Ciel de Séoul" so I chose it. Starting reading it, I could get into the sea of text. I could think about various things via this book. I thought I could live more. Doing every day's routine lets me alive. I learned this fact.
Paul Weller sings that "Has My Fire Really Gone Out?". I asked myself. I can feel that a certain hope is burning in me. The heat of hope, or the warmth I can feel. The Le Clézio I read with Leftfield's "Leftism" was dynamic as usual. It asks me what can we do now against the fate we must die one day. Or what should we do against it? I'm glad and think that reading Le Clézio was a must for me.
In "Bitna", a woman appears who makes various stories for a woman who has to live in a wheelchair. She tells 'stories' to her. The act of dedication of stories to others. I say this again. We must die one day. No one can change this fate. But also no one can stop the storytelling with working imagination freely. Telling stories means talking about hope. Against getting into the small hole of solitude separately, but making a bridge of hope to others. Le Clézio's powerful hopeful story told me that I should live.
Once I had read Le Clézio's "L'Extase matérielle". I was knocked down by his large imagination. His great vision and philosophical thinking were quite impressive. I can remember that. I had thought I should read Kenzaburo Oe and Faulkner, but I also started thinking that reading Le Clézio might be good. My mood changes very easily so I can get nothing from wandering various book's forests. That is autism. I must enjoy "my ever-changing moods" as Paul Weller sings.
