Sadao-san enjoyed the music season in Kyoto and he was keen on attending the performance at the foothills of the Hiei. To hear the throb of the mountains gather the tones of instruments and sprinkle them across skies filled with ears of birds and beasts - including the two-legged ones - was second only to that perfect cherry blossom of that decisive March outside the Kofukuji temple when with each light going out, the pink turned sullen and meditative and when they were lit only in the full moon, he had decided to become a monk - for what else could a man be upon witnessing such a Divine introspection? - along the banks of Kamo. He still smiled at the thought of that night. How wonderful it is for thought to become memory and from neither gain enlightenment? Isn't enlightenment the flower of nothing calyxing empty seeds to grow into a vacant meditation? How much better when it blushes that of cherry blossoms?