From the book:
In our hallway, ablaze with welcoming lights, my Lolita peeled off her sweater, shook her gemmed hair, stretched towards me two bare arms, raised one knee:
"Carry me upstairs, please. I feel sort of romantic to-night."
It may interest physiologists to learn, at this point, that I have the ability - a most singular case, I presume - of shedding torrents of tears throughout the other tempest.
And now from my brief time in Japan:
As I walked alone in Ueno Park at night and the rain poured down on me I sobbed "I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. Everything! Everything! [tears streaming down my face] [...] I thought - I thought - when - I came here; it would be special! Fuck. God! [tears] [...] It's the same shit! Shit - fuck how could I - how could I be so wrong! [...] Oh God, oh God [...] Oh my God I'm a pedophile."
NO ONE WAS HURT, VIOLATED OR MOLESTED before, during or after this incident LOL
With my utmost delusions shattered and deepest fears realised
I washed and cleansed my face in the rain.