Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
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Summary
I wrote a novel once. A pornographic novel, “Doux” with elegant and delicate details of sex and an enigmatic ending forbye.
O reader, I tell you: the novel is a signature of shame. A shame that would lie and perish in the warmth of the printed white pages.
And strangely, that one pornographic novel of 180 pages, which I wrote to suffice a certain obscene desire for an immortal lover, when I was twenty four and stupid, smoked five cigarettes a day, assimilated two blue pills, and fondled the opalescent soft breasts of women under the lucid lights of gold and amber, obtained a glass of expensive wine; an expensive success, fancied by adults of splendid sexual immorality [or ‘psychology’ worshipping ‘scholars’. Whatever, I don't care]
The origin of the scripts of the novel has a dreamy ebullient account. Dates back ten years from today, 1981, October. The aroma of chocolate and coffee paired with music and sex; a strange bar with amber dusted lights, black wood, and spiced alcohol.
Dazai's recollecting his old days. The little story of his frivolous romance with a certain poet named Chūya.