A note, her writing in japanese, he could understand nothing, yet he kept it…
Unknown language to him, mysterious, like music can be, no comprehension but still feelings, one feels and hears what he wants to.
The end was shocking.
That selfless, silent devotion and dedication.
The kind of unconditional love which
you do not appreciate until it is too late.
And when it is too late, there is only longing.
(0:09 “κάποτε, κάποτε θα ‘ρθει…” ~sometime, sometime she’ll come…)
‘It is a strange grief.’
‘To die of nostalgia for something you will never live’