The time that remains: organ donation, temporal duration, and Bildung in Kazuo Ishiguro's Never let me go.

摘要

I half-closed my eyes and imagined that this was the spot where everything I'd lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure on the horizon would appear across the field, and gradually get larger until I could see Tommy, and he'd wave, maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that-I didn't let it-and though the tears rolled down my cheeks, I wasn't sobbing or out of control. I just waited for a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off wherever I was supposed to be.