Memoirs

That place was the hotel my parents who passed away like most. "Let's stay overnight sometime together." My mother was always saying so. "Breakfast is good and nice." I seem happy and murmur. When it was the talk, I always spoke to me. There was no room where a heart is carried by the work line for me at the time. When did my father and mother visit? I did for a while, and visited a hotel. There is a window of the very big one glass made in Germany at the lobby where you can get a bird's-eye view of a back garden, and the landscape spreads like a picture of the canvas. Even if a laid cause or a considerable person oftens call, a red carpet is very quiet quietly. Light comes in pond and brook who have many kinds of fallen leaves woods at the place where they got off with the garden underneath around fresh green and went, and I'm shining. Near the boiler house in a back garden, an age of the tree, there is an old tree of the big fallen leaves which is to the extent it isn't understood, for some years. It may be the one which is the living witness who has run through the greatly excited time while possibly piling up restoration with Meiji, Taisho, Showa and Heisei. I came to like this hotel all too soon, too.