Every morning since I came to Tokyo 7 months ago, I wake up being happy and privileged I can live here. I greet the buildings, the crows, the salary man who rushes down my street and the monks from the shrine in front of our house. But if the sun is out shining, then he gets all the attention. He’s the only one who I greet and thank for giving us a warm new day in the city I love. Gracias, sol. Gracias, Tokio.
"I'm from Libya," he said. I don't know what to say. It's as if he'd told me he'd just come from his father's funeral.
The first specialty coffee shop in Ikebukuro and Junkudo (bookstore) resonate.
Editing is interpreting.
The Riddle of Steel.
The man stands motionless in a crush of white-shirted salarymen, as they swarm past him, toward the single escalator.
Rêve de centre commercial-piscine
Birthday walk home