Our conversation that day progressed no further. Unsettled by Sensei's demeanor, I was happy to let matters lie.
We boarded a train on the outskirts of the city, and once on board we hardly spoke. Shortly after disembarking, it was time to head our separate ways. As we parted, Sensei seemed again to have changed. He said to me, in a tone much brighter than usual, "You're carefree from now until June. It's possible such days will never come again. Enjoy this time to the fullest."
I smiled in return and removed my cap. In doing so I looked at Sensei. Could such a man really, in the depths of his heart, harbor contempt for all of humanity? His countenance betrayed not the slightest hint of such thoughts.
I must admit that I benefited greatly from my frequent discourse with Sensei. I should also say, though, that there were times it left me unfulfilled. I was sometimes left entirely in the dark. Our discussion that day in the country was one such example that sticks in my mind.
Not one to hold things back, I once divulged this to Sensei. Sensei laughed. I explained myself. "I wouldn't mind if I thought you incapable of elucidating. What bothers me is when you know full well yet refuse to bring me along."
"I don't keep anything from you."
"I believe you're confusing my thoughts and ideas with my past experience. I may be a poor thinker, but what thoughts I have I freely share. There's no reason not to. Revealing my life to you in full detail, however, is an entirely different matter."
"It's not a different matter. Your thoughts are the products of your experience, which is why I hold them in high regard. There's no value in one without the other. What can I gain from talking to an empty shell?"