listen/download: Otsu and Mitsuko Converse in Lyon (rough draft)
a magician puts a wretched sparrow in a box, closes the lid and then with a wave of his hands opens the lid again.
the sparrow in the box has been changed into a pure-white dove and comes flying out.
and you're that wretched sparrow.
Mitsuko - you really are a strange one, aren't you?
Otsu - maybe i am, but i didn't change myself. i was transformed by the conjurings of God
M - listen, could you please stop using that word "God." it makes me nervous. i can't relate to it. and it doesn't mean anything to me. ever since i was in college i've felt distant from that word "God" which the foreign priests used.
O- sorry. if you don't like that word we can change it to another name. we can call him Tomato, or even Onion if you prefer.
M- all right then, just what is this Onion to you? you said at school that you really didn't understand him very well when someone asked you whether God existed.
O- sorry. to be honest at that time i really didn't know, but now in my own way i do.
M- tell me.
O- God is not so much an existence as a force. this Onion is an entity that performs the labours of love.
M- (she replied) that's even more repulsive. how can you use such unsettling words as "love" with a straight face? and what do you mean by "labours"?
O- well, for instance, the Onion found me abandoned in one place and at some time he gave me life in a completely different location.
M - (she chorted) that hasn't gotten anything to do with the power of your Onion. your feelings just sent you off in that direction.
O- no that's not true. it was the work of the Onion transcending my own will.
for that first time Otsu spoke decisively, and he lifted his eyes to look her directly in the face. he was different from the somehow ineffectual fellow she had known, whose only redeeming feature was his goodness.
they returned to the place Bellecour, where Mitsuko had noticed from her hotel window a convenient restaurant on a corner of the square marked by a statue of Louis (XIV). their table was surrounded by mirrored walls of vermillion color, and the table-napkins had been arranged like pyramids. the waiters looked on from a distance in bewilderment as the Japanese seminarian dressed in a stained robe seated himself.
dotting his threadbare robe with drops of soup as he ate, Otsu heaved a sigh.
O- this is delcious. how many years has it been since i've eaten something as good as this?'
M- you would've been better off not choosing your present way of life. there are any number of restaurants in Tokyo now that serve food as good as this. excuse me for asking, but is it the work of that Onion of yours that drove you into this kind of life?
Otsu gripped his spoon like a child and grinned.
M- you're a strange man. you're Japanese, aren't you? it makes my teeth stand on edge just to think of you as a Japanese believing in this European Christianity nonsense.
O- you haven't changed at all, have you Miss?
M- i haven't, but i'm serious.
press play.
*****
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