That droplet of moisture that had slipped from me like a tear seemed almost to tell the story of my life. It fell through empty space, with no control whatsoever over its destiny; rolled along a path of silk; and somehow came to rest there on the teeth of that dragon. I thought of the petals I’d thrown into the Kama River shallows outside Mr. Crashing’s workshop, imagining they might find their way to the Chairman. It seemed to me that, somehow, perhaps they had.

Memoirs of a Geisha