I taught at school is not among the village, village north campus had occupied a high pitched, the yard side by side with three columns roof, a total of more than 20, for five classrooms and several faculty dormitory. The teacher a total of eight people, two people live together one room, because its are men, so peaceful, will not make a gossip. Our own jokingly called himself a solitary eight monks in the temple, the oldest 40, the smallest seventeen, I just work life has always been a big monk took the young monk, small
We were the dry, etc., in addition to teaching is the village home visits, or the soil on the log in front of school hold up under the confirmations of playing basketball, little spare time. Because most of his colleagues have families of their own, home of a few acres of land, every school in the afternoon the disarray, home to fondle the reservation to at home, just arrived in a hurry to school in the early morning the next California Fitnessday. So in the afternoon, on the campus of large leaves and I have not a family of small village two people alone empty temple, doing nothing.
I was young, a lot of time can be free, and so it went around borrow books. No matter what books, to get the hands of addictions, forget all about eating and sleeping, read that night. Also often prose, poetry, novels, prose everything, unknowingly also accumulated number of this manuscript, now turn out occasionally to see, also to have perseverance and regret at that time.
These days work of the other things in life are indifferent memory, but the winter hakodate prostrate on the burning coals hot heatable adobe sleeping platform, under the kerosene lamp of fumigated nose black the things impressed that read book writing. A hot-headed teenagers with lamp or read books or away, such as beans in a lonely village in the heart of the world, the spirit is not empty.
Life is living, but the colleagues talking and laughing, freely, is very with infinite pleasure.