Near my apartment, there is a big street with an endless row of ginkgo trees, which are symbols of Tokyo. This one near the subway station somehow attracts tons of sparrows from 4:00 to 6:00pm. I sometimes stand beneath the tree, listening to them chirping and chirping. In a matter of a minute, I am mesmerized. And their droppings bring me back to senses.
"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
Dead Letter#2: Names