Start her talking, and she'd go on nonstop, but if she was with someone she didn't get along with-most people in the world, in other words-sheīarely opened her mouth. Sumire was a hopeless romantic, set in her ways-a bit innocent, to put a nice spin on it. Life, and it'd lose even its imperfection. I think it was the right move, but if I can be allowed a mediocre generalization, don't pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from-perfect world? Remove everything pointless from an imperfect Unsurprisingly, then, just before her junior year, she just up and quit. She found the college totally out of touch, a lukewarm, dispirited place, and she loathed it-andįound her fellow students (which would include me, I'm afraid) hopelessly dull, second-rate specimens.

Nothing could come between her and herĪfter she graduated from a public high school in Kanagawa Prefecture, she entered the liberal arts department of a cozy little private college in Tokyo. Her resolve was a regular Rock of Gibraltar. No matter how many choices life might bring her way, it was novelist or nothing. Almost.Īt the time, Sumire-Violet in Japanese-was struggling to become a writer. This is where it all began, and where it all wound up. And was married.Īnd, I should add, was a woman. The person she fell in love with happened to be seventeen years older than Sumire. In short, a love of truly monumental proportions. The tornado's intensity doesn't abate for a second as it blasts across the ocean, laying waste to Angkor Wat, incinerating an Indian jungle, tigers and all, transforming itself into a Persianĭesert sandstorm, burying an exotic fortress city under a sea of sand. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains-flattening everything in its path, tossing things up in the air, ripping them to shreds,Ĭrushing them to bits.

In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life.

Sumire sputnik sweetheart