VOSHN 398

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="375"><tr><td class="etesti">375</td><td class="edate">Opinion</td><td class="eage">17 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>That was the book I was quite impressed with.</td></tr></table><div class="large"><p>When I was running out of my house, a pillar fell over me.  I found my legs were caught under the rubble and I could not free them.  I shouted and shouted for help, and then I heard my younger sister call my name from far off.  Then she cried, "There's a fire around me!"</p><br><p>As I was struggling under the debris, I saw my books were scattered about.  Among them I found "Philosophy of Life," a book written by Mushakoji Saneatsu, which I was quite impressed with when I read it as a high school student.  It lay just in front of me, but you know it didn't help me at all to get out of this situation.</p><br><p>At school, they would encourage me to read books and I myself would believe it was very important.  However, I now have doubts whether it'll do me any good to read books when I live my life.  I am too embarrassed to call myself a nihilist, but I feel like denying what I used to believe in.</p></div></body>