kenkantor: Hirsohima, mon amour.
kenkantor: It was a taste of the future, and the future tasted good.
kenkantor: It was becoming clear that I had taken a wrong turn somewhere.
kenkantor: Who died and made you a saint?
kenkantor: These were once my dreams.
kenkantor: Don't sweat the technique.
kenkantor: Think you're an aristocrat.
kenkantor: I wanted to say something, but I didn't have any idea what.