Izou dancer | Yasunari Kawabata

I read the storybook, then, and I do not hide that ideas swirled in my mind. As if they responded to my wishes, the dancer approached me. And when I began to read, she brought her attentive face closer to me, then brought it even closer until it almost touched my shoulder, while she looked at my forehead steadily with wide, shining eyes, without blinking an eyelash. I thought she usually did that when someone reads a book to her: I watched her carefully as she listened to the chicken merchant’s reading. She brought her face closer to him, and her two large black eyes were shining. Her eyes are the most beautiful thing about her. It seemed to me that the curve of her matching eyelashes was rarely seen for their extreme beauty. And I found in her smile the sparkle of a blooming flower. A flower, indeed, it reminded me of a flower.