Although I lack the ability to make you understand, I must try to explain one thing to you: It is not entirely because we lack common language. I am lying quietly on the lawn at my home in Indian Orchird, lying beside me is C... I've been thinking about you. C is playing with a blade of grass... she says this thin green sliver can predict the outcome of our love. She lifts the grass to the sun, observing it carefully. I have looked the whole world over, and the more I see, the more confused I become, whereas she can look at one blade of grass and see in it our future. With this kind of woman by my side, I am forced to recognize that I must be some strange demon. The language of demons and humans is mutually unintelligible.
