Poignant, profound, and precarious how Keiko inhabits and observes human life; in absolute awe in the bizzare concisions of the awkward normalcy that exists in the gaps of our society. Japan was the main stage here, but no less does it not exist for us in the Philippines to be a social outcast, voluntary or by circumstance? As we all struggle towards a plateau of comfortable ignorance and knowledge of our own character in adulthood, do we not enter phases of living in saps of the mundane, of monotonous yet well-defined roles like being a Convenience Store Woman? I struggle to see how less alien Keiko truly is, as we're never truly devoid of such desire to adjust to the norm; just that we've found and settled in our own definitions. To be born with such a certainty, would that make you any more normal than me who has been in the same position as Keiko? In the end, the lesson is clear; it is to be unashamed of ourselves in our own pretend normal or normal pretend— it is all awkward and
