No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

114
school—the ones Takeichi called "ghost pictures"
—naturally came to mind. My lost masterpieces.
These, my only really worthwhile pictures, had disappeared
during one of my frequent changes of
address. I afterwards painted pictures of every description,
but they all fell far, far short of those
splendid works as I remembered them. I was plagued
by a heavy sense of loss, as if my heart had become
empty.
The undrunk glass of absinthe.
A sense of loss which was doomed to remain
eternally unmitigated stealthily began to take shape.
Whenever I spoke of painting, that undrunk glass
of absinthe nickered before my eyes. I was agonized
by the frustrating thought: if only I could show them
those paintings they would believe in my artistic
talents.
"Do you really? You're adorable when you joke
that way with a serious face."
But it was no joke. It was true. I wished I could
have shown her those pictures. I felt an empty
chagrin which suddenly gave way to resignation. I
added, "Cartoons, I mean. I'm sure I'm better than
Horiki at cartoons if nothing else."
These clownish words of deceit were taken more
seriously than the truth.
"Yes, that's so. I've really been struck by those