I had been supposed to be a wild man in the empty field before I met you. However, we did not belong to each other. You were engaged with my dear little brother. And he said you were subjective, realistic, full of passion. Indeed what he said was true. And yet he did not even speak of your beauty. I, as his brother, made joke on him to advise him to fuck you before he enlist to war against Germany.

You may know that my little bro was very much like you, full of passion. Maybe that’s why you went together. And maybe that’s why god played a tragedy on you both. My little bro, regardless of our father’s strong anti, attended to the war and was killed by enemy before I could save his life.

I took his body home, buried him the place where he loved most. And I was buried in deep sorrow. You found me, came to share the huge suffering I’d been carrying on. Since the moment we hug together, I knew that you were mine…

There’s something you didn’t discover on me since the day I came back from sea. I changed. I became more wild and badtempered. I love you. But I could not marry you, though you were pregnant with my baby. I had to go out from pasture to fulfill my dream. I became a hunter in the wild with savage. And I was propelled to sleep with prostitutes. I knew I had already corrupted. So I wrote to you, ‘we are done, you marry another’.

Years later, I came back from outside and declared the end of my tramp life. But you had already gone. The servant said you married my big bro a few years ago. I had nothing to say but to pray my best wishes to you. I married another woman, and my wife gave me two children, which always indicated I returned a normal life.

However, beautiful dreams can never last long. My wife was dead during an accident, which was totally caused by the potential conflict between me and local government. I rushed ferociously to the police who caused the death of my wife and presented him with constant heavy beats to vent the my huge rage inside. Afterwards I was imprisoned for my beating to the policeman, who was nearly almost to die after he was sent to hospital.

And you came to see me in prison and used your privilege help me out of it. You kissed my forehead through the jail, tears could not help rolling down from your limpid eyes, which seemed you were regretting all the tragedy happened to me.

Finally you suicided with a gun . I didn’t know why you had to do this. All my things were none of your business. Maybe you had been always thinking of my tragedy histories totally because of you…

Many people defined me a short-life man. But they were wrong. I saw my children grow and raised their own family. However, most of people who cared so much about me died young. I was a rock, firmly against any impact from outside. I was last seen in the north of the country where hunting was still good. I always lived in the boundary land, somewhere between this world and the other. I died in 1963 with my honor, my grave had not marked it. But that didn’t matter, it was a good death.