Like the Japanese, my parents also had never seen the sea before arriving in France with their little cardboard suitcase. The Mediterranean they heard about. The white man, they saw him in the large farms or in motorized vehicles ... And they knew him, worked for him without ever complaining. Until the day they have become internal enemies, stigmatized as a terrorist potential. In this book are the tensions between the US and Japan that is felt, as in France with the war in Algeria. But it was written by a woman and with such sweetness, it becomes even more intense, oppressive, like a desire to cry, because of that human stupidity is the distrust of the other, all because that if it is different and similar at the same time. A great book that takes your guts. Full of emotion and poetry and sweetness, like a melancholy melody. As the reflux of the waves, and the vastness of the sea embracing this solitude, sadness, and joy that is life. If there were not the other, what we would shit anyway.
