As I am sitting alone in my beloved’s apartment and staring in front of myself, I am overwhelmed by a sensation of bliss. The world freely offers itself to me out of the blue. It yearns to be unmasked, I can tell. The past, the present, and the future twirl into one in front of my eyes. Facing my stillness, the world has no choice, I feel. As it starts rolling in ecstasy at my feet, Kafka comes to my mind (“Bon Buddhism in a Nutshell,” October 1, 1990). Feeling his warm presence, I close my eyes and smile. Remembering Kafka is like remembering myself.