He was her first love.

He kept a photo of her.

He made him want to stay and settled down.

Yet his quest forced him to leave with the fact that he never saw her again.

A month of staying bliss he wrote:

“… To you, I dedicate the final chapter of these memoirs of my youth. No woman like you has ever loved me. No woman, like you has ever sacrificed for me. Like the flower of the chodji that falls from the stem fresh and whole without falling leaves or without withering – with poetry still despite its fall—thus you fe.. Neither have you lost your purity nor have delicate petals of your innocence faded – Sayonara, Sayonara!...”