natasha 駅のホームで私は列の先頭に並んでいた。
やがてホームに入ってきて止まった電車の車体には、だらしなく年を重ねた私の姿が反射して写った。
つり革につかまり車窓を見ながら、あの人も老けただろうと思う。もし今出会うことがあったら老けたあの人に私はもう一度恋できるだろうか？
出っ張ったお腹、薄くなった頭頂、かさついた肌・・・年老いた表情・・・？
私は彼の顔が思い出せない。
どんなに記憶を組み立てようとしても顔のピースだけ見つからなかった。
どんな顔で私に微笑みかけ、どんな顔で私を突き放したのか。
何度も何度も反芻した彼の表情は、その摩耗に耐えきれなかったかのように、輪郭を失ってしまった。
I was at the front of the line on the station platform.
When the train came into the platform and stopped, my disheveled and aged figure was reflected in the body of the train.
As I hold on to the straps and look out the window, I wonder how old that man must have gotten. If I were to meet him now, would I be able to fall in love with the aged man all over again?
The protruding belly, the thinning crown of the head, flaky skin… the aged face…?
I couldn’t remember his face.
No matter how hard I tried to assemble my memory, I could not find a piece of his face.
With what face did he smile at me, and with what face did he push me away?
His face, which I had ruminated over and over again, had lost its outline, as if it could not stand the wear and tear.