It was a rainy spring night, and I walked the narrow street. The world was tranquil. I even sang merrily because I was a little boy and knew nothing of the dreadfulness of the world.

Suddenly a man furiously drunk, tottering, shouting, kicking, and knocking on windows recklessly, showed himself and split the world in a moment.

I ran home. It was my first experience of the outside world, of fear.

Now that I know I'm a poor coward, I wish I could forgive the furious man because (I may be wrong) I think he fears the world like me.