Today, as I headed to work in Manhattan, it rained heavily. Seeing raindrops after so long, I caught people glancing at me as they passed. It reminded me of decades ago. On my honeymoon morning, riding a red secondhand bicycle to graduate school, at the start of the hill leading to campus, behind the traffic light, in front of the placards, there was always a woman who looked at me with the same expression, indifferently smiling. That image came to mind. Here too, people weary from the alienation of modern civilization greet me like that woman. Seeing such unhappiness, I cannot heal it, cannot share it, and just pass by. That's why I suppose there is sorrow within the beauty of all art.