On a fall evening, when the sun was about to set, she left home alone, locking the gradually gathering twilight in her room. She walked where she pleased along paths through the fields. She followed the smells of the grasses and the earth as she walked where she pleased. Who was she? She walked to a remote, quiet place and sat down facing a tall, empty building. She leaned against an ancient tree. She sat in its deep, swaying shade, sat in the low, chanting sound it made. She made the place her own. Who was she? She thought about things near and distant, about things real and illusory. Her mind and body slipped into a natural, mysterious realm… A woman like that, who could she be? A woman to be admired.
But I had to keep climbing my stairs. I didn't know what had been arranged for me by nature's mysteries. Take, for example, climbing stairs; take, for example, the fact that there was an apartment on the twenty-first floor that would belong to me. When had this been determined? How had it been determined? Fourth floor, fifth floor. I had to rest again. To tell the truth, resting was of secondary importance. As I climbed, I didn't stop thinking about the girl, even for a minute. I had no bad intentions, I just wanted to look at her again and was afraid she had already left. I just wanted to have another look at her, another look at the contented nonchalance with which she sat alone under that big tree, quietly lost in thought. I looked down. She hadn't left. She was still sitting there by herself, still sitting the same way. But now I saw someone else.
There was a man walking back and forth along the outside of the western wall. I hadn't noticed him before. The wall had blocked my view, and I couldn't see him. The wall was quite high. By this time, I was on the fifth floor; yet even so, I could see only his head and shoulders. He paced back and forth as if caged. He walked for a while, then stopped, looked into the distance, and puffed repeatedly on a cigarette. Then he started walking back and forth again, then stopped again, and smoked furiously as he peered toward the distant woods. I could hear his footsteps; they sounded irritated, restless. I heard the snap of each match he struck; he broke match after match. The spot where he stopped was also in the shade of the parasol tree; only the wall separated him from the girl. Along with the appearance of this man, I noticed that not far from him and the girl, in the northwest corner of the wall, there was a small gate. It had been there all along, of course. I had just overlooked it. Now it was especially obvious. Who was the man? What was he to her? One was inside the gate, the other was outside. There was no one else around, no one else in the vicinity. What was going on? The man was terribly upset and anxious, and the woman was in an absolutely silent trance. What had happened? What had happened between them? A slanting beam of sunlight came through the gap between the doors of the small gate and settled in the damp shadow at the base of the wall; it was bright and sadly beautiful.
"Go with the flow" was what the girl said, but what did she mean? To what did "Go with the flow" refer? Was she forced to leave him? Did she have no choice but to leave him? Yes, yes. If she had no choice but to leave him, then all she could do was go with the flow. No choice but to leave him. That meant she still loved him, but there was nothing she could do. "Go with the flow." Wasn't that the truth? When she said it, her voice was hollow, her eyes dazed. She didn't see me at all and, of course, couldn't hear what I asked her. She was overcome with sadness; all she could think of was the happiness and the bitterness of the past. But finally there was nothing she could do. And the man outside the wall? He was madly in love with her and wanted to make her happy. How he hoped she would be happier because of him. It never occurred to him that he would drive her to such suffering. It never occurred to him that things could end up like this. He had thought it was enough that he loved her and that she loved him, too. It never occurred to him that the world was so large or that everything in life was connected in so many ways.
"As long as you're happy, it's OK." Maybe that's what he said finally.
The woman sat under the tree with her head lowered. Restlessly, the man walked to her side, around her, in front of her.
"As long as you're happy, I'll be OK whatever happens," he said to her.
"But if you'll just not be afraid, if you'll just have a little courage.
"Will you say something? After so long, you must give me a definite answer."
The woman couldn't speak. Yes or no. The logic of it wasn't so simple.
The man said, "I'm waiting for you to say the word. Yes or no."
The man said, "What's important is what you want. What's important is what you think will make you happy."
The man said, "It's not that I want you to make a decision right away, but I have to know what you think is best."
The woman couldn't speak at all. What would be best? Maybe it would have been best if you and I had never met. Maybe it would be best if people didn't fall in love, if there were never such a person as you, never such an autumn as this, never such hollow afternoon light, and never such an expanse of shade. She didn't want any of it. Such long, slender, restless legs, such delicate, nimble feet crushing fallen leaves. She didn't want any of it. And the long, drawn-out sound of leaves ripping into pieces. She didn't want it. She had never wanted it.
"Are you going to say something?" the man asked. "I don't know what it means that you won't say anything.
"I don't understand why it's so hard to answer my questions.
"I don't know what else I can say. I don't know what to do.
"OK, OK, maybe I shouldn't pester you like this. Maybe I should be sensible and just walk away.
"OK, I'll go. I never thought I could make things so difficult for you. I'll just say one more thing. As long as you're happy, it's OK with me whatever happens."
He turned and walked out through the small gate. She didn't stop him. She really no longer had the strength to stop him. She heard him walk through the gate, listening with despair to the sound of his departing footsteps. She held her breath and listened, listened. The familiar sound didn't travel far, and she sighed in relief. Or maybe it was the opposite. Her despair deepened. She heard him walking back and forth outside the wall, heard him smoking, heard him sighing, heard him crying his heart out. She could fully imagine his pain, but she had no idea what she should do. The only answer left to her was "Go with the flow." The wind blew between the dense, broad leaves of the parasol tree and through the surrounding woods; it sounded like water, like splashing oars, like waves someplace off in the distance. Why? Were their parents opposed? What other reason could there be? It was better to keep climbing my stairs. I came to look at my apartment. All I could do was get myself up to the twenty-first floor.
Then again, maybe she didn't love him. Or once loved him but didn't anymore. "But why?" the man asked. "I don't want to pressure you, but I have to know why this is happening." It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, but she truly didn't know what to say. There seemed to be many reasons, but when she tried to speak, she couldn't make any of them clear. There really were many reasons, but when she spoke, she couldn't find any of them. "Go with the flow" was what she said. It was what she always said to him. In her mind, she was still saying it to him and to herself. There was no way to prove or disprove love; all one could do was go with the flow. The man went around to the other side of the wall. Maybe he was grieved; maybe he was angry. He just turned and walked out through the small gate. Maybe it was love; maybe it was hatred. Not wanting to say anything more, he walked out through the small gate. But he couldn't leave her. He didn't want to leave her. He was upset and anxious and didn't know what to do; he stood looking around helplessly. The sun had neared the woods. Gray magpies called back and forth. Inside the wall, the woman listened worriedly to the man's movements. She couldn't leave either. She was afraid he might be capable of anything. But what should she do? There was absolutely nothing she could do except go with the flow. That and pray quietly. It was the only wise thing to do, the right thing.