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taxman。 All he can do is dig and dig and dig and dig。 〃Ine's a little
low here； don't you think？' Well； of course the ine's low when
you're not making any money！ I wanted to scream： 〃Go do this where
they've got some money！' Do you think the taxman's attitude would
change if there was a revolution？〃
〃Highly doubtful； highly doubtful。〃
〃That does it； then。 I'm not going to believe in any damned revolution。
Love is all I'm going to believe in。〃
〃Peace；〃 I said。
〃Peace；〃 said Midori。
〃Hey； where are we going？〃 I asked。
〃The hospital；〃 she said。 〃My father's there。 It's my turn to stay with
him all day。〃
〃Your father？！ I thought he was in Uruguay！〃
〃That was a lie；〃 said Midori in a matter …of…fact tone。 〃He's been
screaming about going to Uruguay forever； but he could never do that。
He can hardly get himself out of Tokyo。〃
〃How bad is he？〃 I asked。
〃It's just a matter of time；〃 she said。
We walked on in silence。
〃I know what I'm talking about。 It's the same thing my mother had。 A
brain tumour。 Can you believe it？ It's hardly been two years since she
died of a brain tumour； and now he's got one。〃
The University Hospital corridors were noisy and crowded with
weekend visitors and patients who had less serious symptoms； and
everywhere hung that special hospital smell； a cloud of disinfectant
and visitors' bouquets； and urine and mattresses； while nurses surged
back and forth with a dry clattering of heels。
Midori's father was in a semi…private room in the bed nearest the door。
Stretched out； he looked like some tiny creature with a fatal wound。
He lay on his side； limp； the drooping left arm inert； jabbed with an
intravenous needle。 He was a small； skinny man who gave the
impression that he would only get smaller and thinner。 A white
bandage encircled his head； and his pasty white arms were dotted with
the holes left by injections or intravenous drips。 His half…open eyes
stared at a fixed point in space； bloodshot spheres that twitched in our
direction when we entered the room。 For some ten seconds they stayed
focused on us； then drifted back to that fixed point in space。
You knew when you saw those eyes he was going to die soon。 There
was no sign of life in his flesh； just the barest trace of what had once
been a life。 His body was like a dilapidated old house from which all
the fixtures and fittings have been removed； awaiting its final
demolition。 Around the dry lips clumps of whiskers sprouted like
weeds。 So； I thought； even after so much of a man's life force has been
lost； his beard continues to grow。
Midori said hello to a fat man in the bed by the window。 He nodded
and smiled； apparently unable to talk。 He coughed a few times and；
after sipping some water from a glass by his pillow； he shifted his
weight and rolled on his side； turning to gaze out of the window。
Beyond the window could be seen only a pole and some power lines；
nothing more； not even a cloud in the sky。
〃How are you feeling； Daddy？〃 said Midori； speaking into her father's
ear as if testing a microphone。 〃How are you today？〃
Her father moved his lips。 he said； not so much speaking
the words as forming them from dried air at the back of his throat。
he said。
〃You have a headache？〃 Midori asked。
he said； apparently unable to pronounce more than a syllable
or two at a time。
〃Well； no wonder；〃 she said； 〃you've just had your head cut open。 Of
course it hurts。 Too bad； but try to be brave。 This is my friend；
Watanabe。〃
〃Glad to meet you；〃 I said。 Midori's father opened his lips halfway；
then closed them again。
Midori gestured towards a plastic stool near the foot of the bed and
suggested I sit down。 I did as I was told。 Midori gave her father a
drink of water and asked if he'd like a piece of fruit or some jellied
fruit dessert。 he said； and when Midori insisted that he had to
eat something； he said