The man with the funny moustache came to visit me again Tuesday evening. It was the longest day of the year, and the sun was still shining with splendour as it was setting behind Mt. Fuji. He enquired whether he could use some poetic license when writing down my memories. I was hesitant about this at first, so I told him that I would have to think over this for a while. But then I thought, what harm can come from it? Eventually I consented. -Ken Takeda