My uncle, who was my mother's older brother, was a doctor, and there were times when our family visited his family. Our town was small, and the two families lived close to each other. And once or twice a year we used to get together and had dinner. But I remember there were times when I could not have a very good time on such occasions. My older brother came home from Tokyo in summer, for example. He was talkative and he kept talking during dinner. Just being talkative would not have annoyed me. What was annoying, or painful, was the kind of information he kept giving us. What train he had taken to come back from Tokyo, what other trains he could have taken, which was faster, etc. I was annoyed by such details he explained endlessly, but what was also annoying or even deeply shocking to me was that everybody except me seemed to find them immensely entertaining. There were no exchanges of views, no obervations of people or things. Gossipping would have been much less painful. I became excruciatingly bored and, saying, as an excuse, that I had something to do at home, left early. I felt extremely lonely. But I also discovered something about some people as well as about myself.