It's all about that man who wears a blank look.In Mishima's novels there are suggestions of auto intoxication.This is some sort of a Harakiri of a crazy mind. Looking back,one finds a rollercoster ride all through life.Reminds me of the bicycle ride in the "The Zen &The Art Of Motor Cycle Maintenance".Reaching anywhere is no important.The experience only matters.Revisiting those experiences makes one happy and sad at once.Why happy and sad? Both are experiences.Why try to label them? Tired, it may or may not continue.
