Excerpt

March 19th, 1945 (Monday? Sunday?)

Aguni-jima, East China Sea

My Most Divine Umi—

You cannot imagine how I long for you.

When I think of my real life (or shall I say my past life? For this, now, is my real life) so much of it vanishes — Sounzan, the mountain, even my beloved parents — and all that remains of my time on earth are the days that I have spent with you. And two of these days you know nothing about! Are you aware that I spent the Saturday before my departure with you? No, how could you know?

You and Kakuzo, with little Teiji in his basket, walked that morning to the inlet of turtles, and Kakuzo carried a gift melon, no doubt offered in honor of Teiji's birth. You shared it, then brought Teiji to the water and dipped his tiny feet. I believe I saw in Kakuzo, as he stood at the edge of the shore stones, a hesitancy to touch the baby: is it possible? I know such details, my love, because I was in the cherry trees watching you.

My life I give to the two of you.

From my hiding place, I watched Teiji closely. He is quite still — a sign in a baby, I believe, of the artist's vision. I believe he is watching everything: the folds of cotton at the rim of his basket, the pale Sounzan sky, the mountain painting itself on the quiet of Lake Ashi. He is watching and recording, and one day he will astonish you. Perhaps he will draw a grove of cherries and, in it, hidden by leaves and branches, a heart that is plundered, watching you. Or perhaps he will attempt to draw the mountain itself, inverted in the lake, perfection as it exists and therefore the stumblestone of all who would attempt its capture. Allo