The building manager will start repairing and repainting the external wall this coming Tuesday. The work will last until the mid December. I had no choice but transferred all the plants to my parents’ tiny garden. J. had been away in San Francisco, and it was a bit painful to clear the space. And I am so used to the view with greens outside the windows that it is shocking to see the balcony bare. J. would have had a fit.
At the same time, this building (built in 1977) can use some fresh paint and have some cracks filled. The balcony is now like a blank canvas for J. to start a new garden. Besides, all the trees, such as a blueberry and olive, are coming back here.
Meanwhile, my mother is excited to take care of our plants. And thanks to my father who burrowed a big van to haul everything. It was a minor family event.
"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
Sparrow Noise
Birthday walk home
"Dear Cigarettes"