I was on my way to run some errands in Ginza but it was far too cold to go by bike, so I ventured down into the tube (something I rarely do). I settled into my favorite seat (at the end of the carriage, left arm over the window, right arm free to draw). I took out this little paper sample “book” (a fan of paper samples, really) someone gave me for free and has become one of my favorite sketchbooks; it’s small and practical for drawing in small spaces (and even while standing).
I started drawing in Roppongi, and two stations later just couldn’t stop. All these people came to sit in front of me. Like cheap (also free) models they would stay for a while, hardly moved, and then left as soon as I was done with their portraits — or when their station was reached.
Believe me, I could have sat there forever.
"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