The Hole Hiroko Oyamada Quotes

Cicadas are quiet when it rains. It got me thinking: What would a cicada do if it emerged from the earth and there was nothing but rain for days on end? Would it just die without ever making a sound?

If I were fully awake, I wouldn't know how I'd get through each day.

Listen to those cicadas. They’re a real earful this year, aren’t they?” The second he said it, as if on cue, brown cicadas started roaring all around us. “Inside my shed, I can hear it all. All the sound. I almost feel like I’m becoming one of them.” My brother-in-law strode toward the gate. I watched Grandpa standing there, hose pointed downward. He almost looked like a shadow.

hikikomori.

I was pretty sure I’d get sick of my new routine within a week — but it only took a day. Every day after that was as mind-numbing as the one before, ad infinitum. In theory, I could watch TV, use the computer, read a book, bake like I used to when I was single — but it seemed like everything cost money. I had to spend money to pass the time. People say housewives get free room and board and even time to nap, but the truth is napping was the most economical way to make it through the day. The hours moved slowly, but the days passed with staggering speed. Soon I lost all sense of time. I didn’t have any appointments or deadlines. The days were slipping through my fingers.

People always fail to notice things. Animals, cicadas, puddles of melted ice cream on the ground, the neighborhood shut-in. But what would you expect? It seems like most folks don’t see what they don’t want to see. The same goes for you. There must be plenty you don’t see.

It's just, families are strange things, aren't they? You have this couple: one man, one woman. A male and a female, if you will. They mate, and why? To leave children behind. And what are the children supposed to do? Turn around and do the whole thing over again? Well, what do you do when what you've got isn't worth carrying on? The things people do for family.

As I started to walk, it seemed like nothing around me was moving. The trees were as still as in a photograph, and the windows of all the houses were shut tight. There were no people around. No cats, no dogs, no crows. There wasn’t a single sparrow in the sky. My eyes were tingling from the heat. Once the water from Grandpa’s hose was too far away to hear, the only sound left was the cicadas...

Abrí la ventana y oí a las cigarras cantar. No sé si era porque estaba en el campo y había muchos árboles o por la influencia del clima de ese año, pero nunca las había oído con tanta intensidad. Era como si me hubiese tragado una y estuviese estridulando desde el interior de mi cuerpo. A la estridencia del sonido me acostumbraba enseguida, pero en cuanto advertía un cambio de ritmo y volvía mi atención sobre ellas sentía que su canto se adhería a mi piel y me asfixiaba.

I guess it's weird, but we're only human. That's life, right? I wouldn't wish it on you, but it was your choice after all, wasn't it?" "What was?" "This. This current that never stops. Everything I wanted to escape from.

As soon as I got home, I looked out the window to see what Grandpa was doing. He was in the garden, pointing the hose upward, covering the grass in mist. A rainbow fell over him.

I could see ripples on the water, but I couldn't tell where the light was coming from. Little waves formed one after another, each with its own shape. I could hear Grandpa breathing heavily. Maybe he was cold. I know I was.

I moved out here with my husband.