Mottainai.

There is a time when a fledgling of a child grows to hate everything that is of a child, because that is the only way the child knows to become an adult.

And there is a time when a fledgling of a girl grows to hate everything that is of a girl, because that is the only way the child knows to become a bride and a mother.

The twisted rejections of our selves may come as a shock with sufficient distance. When the child and the girl realises the wasted treasures they have so mindlessly abandoned.

Mottainai, it seems, comes in romantic wonder.

But like the petals of the sakura that wishes to bear fruit, the sakura will never understand the beauty of falling petals.