We met at a smoky classic music cafe and were offered a reunion in Shibuya

A human theory by an author who was also active as a thinker, playwright, and literary critic. What is life? What is freedom? What is individuality? What is happiness? This book attempts to unravel the essence of the complex emotions humans have through the keyword "dramatic human existence." Shincho Bunko / 539 yen
I read books in a balanced way and forget them in a balanced way. I don't often find proverbial sentences sinking into my body. But I always have wonderful experiences connected with books. I used to frequent a place called Meikyoku Kissa Lion, which played classical music at full volume. Whenever the purple smoke wafting through the cafe triggered my need to go to the bathroom, I would always sneak in and sneak to the toilet so as not to join the ensemble.
One day, on my way back to my desk after using the restroom, I spotted some books along the wall and picked one up. The book, titled "Man, This Dramatic Thing," is an essay by a leading translator of Shakespeare's works that compares humanity to classical plays.
I was particularly struck by the line, "True freedom for humans is to fully play the role we've been given," and I lost track of time as I read the whole thing. I was breathing heavily at this dramatic encounter, thinking that this book existed for me. My breathing was louder than the sound of my footsteps.
A few days later, an editor I'd met while researching musical instruments invited me out for drinks. I'm not normally the kind of person to socialize and drink with an editor I'd only met once, but I felt a sense of trust and resonance with his choice of words and way of thinking. As soon as we sat down, he handed me a book and said, "I'd really like you to read this." It was "Man: This Dramatic Thing."
"Actually, I just happened to read this recently," he said, and a smile naturally appeared on his face. The evening we chatted flowed so smoothly it was like a theatrical performance, and I found myself breathing heavily again. My breathing was apparently louder than the instruments.