Hungry, but lacking the will to prepare a meal, he took up his shakuhachi and, with a sigh, went out onto the veranda. For an hour or more, he played without stopping, attempting to expel his desires and delusions. Yet it was evident to him that his passions remained with him and would remain with him until he died… Half of him regretted not having acted; the other half condemned his lecherous yearning. It was precisely this conflict of emotions, swirling incessantly in his veins, that constituted what that Buddha called delusion. He was trying now to cleanse his impure nature, but the more he strived, the muddier the tone of his shakuhachi became.