I entered the cemetery from the left side of the seedlings field in front of the cemetery and proceeded towards the back along a wide path with maple trees planted on both sides. I walked along the path towards the end of the path and saw a man who looked like a teacher coming out of a tea stall at the end of the path. I walked up to him until the rims of his glasses shone in the sun. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I called out loudly, 'Sensei'. The teacher suddenly stopped and looked at me.
'Why ......, why ......'
The teacher repeated the same words twice. The words were repeated with a strange tone in the quiet daylight. I was suddenly unable to respond in any way.
'Have you been following me? Why ......"
The teacher's demeanour was rather subdued. His voice was rather subdued. However, there was a kind of cloudiness in his expression that made it difficult to say for sure.
I told my teacher how I came here.
'Whose grave did you go to visit, and did your wife say his name?'
No, I would not say anything of the sort.
'I see. --Well, I wouldn't tell you that, would I, when I first met you. You don't have to.
The teacher seemed to finally get it. But I didn't understand what he meant.
The teacher and I passed between the tombs on our way to the street. There were tombs of Isabella Whatsapp and Rogin, the god-boku, with stupas saying that all sentient beings should live completely in harmony with the Buddha. There was also a minister plenipotentiary. In front of a small tomb engraved with the name Anduk Yueyue, I asked my teacher, "What is the reading of this? He laughed and said, "I guess they are going to make us read it as Andre.
He did not seem to find the racial styles of these gravestones as funny or ironic as I did. At first he listened in silence as I pointed to the round headstones and slender granite monuments, but finally he said, "You have not yet seriously considered the fact of death. I was silent. The teacher said nothing more.
A single large gingko stood at the cemetery dividing line, hiding the sky. When we came to the bottom of it, the teacher looked up at the tall treetops and said: 'In a little while, it will be beautiful. The tree will be completely yellowed and the ground around here will be covered with golden fallen leaves. The teacher always passed under this tree at least once a month.
A man was clearing the bumpy ground to make a new cemetery on the other side of the road, resting his hand on his hoe and looking at us. We cut left from there and immediately onto the road.
I had no purpose of where I was going, so I just walked towards the teacher. He was less talkative than usual. Even so, I didn't feel too constrained, so we walked aimlessly together.
'Are you coming home soon?'
Yeah, there's nowhere else to stop.
They went down the hill towards the south again in silence.
'Is your cemetery in Asuko, doctor?' I interjected again.
'No.'
'Whose grave is it? -- Is it the grave of a relative?'
'No.'
The teacher gave no other answer than this. I left the conversation at that. Then, after walking about a town or so, the teacher unexpectedly came back there.
'There is a grave of a friend of mine in Asuko.
'Do you visit your friend's grave every month?'
Yes."
The teacher spoke of nothing else that day.
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