We met our two best friends in Japan via personal ad.
‘American expats seek English-speaking couple for friendship…’
After just a pair of emails and a phone call they invited us to stay two nights with them at their home in Tokyo, sight unseen. The abundance of generosity brought out our suspicion, still befuddled as we were by the Far East.
We arranged to meet at Starbucks near Shinjuku Station’s South Gate. I chose 1pm so if they turned out to be human kidney brokers we could make our escape and catch a late train back to Yokosuka.
Could they have been more lovely? Could we have felt more like reincarnated comrades?
Forty months ago we stood on this balcony and took in this view for the first time with our new old friends. Oh, how I pray for forty more, and forty, and forty, and forty…
"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