Arthur Golden. Memoirs of a geisha (№ 313898)

A little girl of five or six, still have not heard anything about Kyoto, I knew a boy named Norbu who lived in our village. He was a good boy, but he smelled really bad. I think that's why it didn't. When he spoke, it paid exactly the same attention as the singing bird or the croaking of frogs, and the poor often Norbu of grief cried. A few months after my escape, I began to understand what his life was like, because to me stopped talking, except for those cases when you gave me an assignment.