I didn't expect "The Tale of Genji" to be such a love story! I bought a translation of Feng Zikai, a lotus powder cloth-like cover, which is quite warm. Since the summer vacation read until Genji passed away, I put it down. National Day comes to close this after a quarter. I never thought that the later story description would be more vivid and meticulous. The psychology, personality, emotion, and interest of the characters are lightly buckled into the heart, and the realm of the Buddha is also not deep. The final ending of the story is some natural, some confused, a little realistic, a little hopeful. It happens, and it disappears. Just like my reading experience, it has nothing to do with the context of the story, a breath and rhyme, such as breathing, often unaware, always existing.
Read enough Japanese literature! Quit Murakami, and here comes so many. Maybe it's obsessing over that "light" feeling.
