
Dispatch № 67: Continuity
It has been there for more than a dozen generations, and it may remain there for at least that much longer still.
It has been there for more than a dozen generations, and it may remain there for at least that much longer still.
Over time, stacks of these fragments string together and hang upon the backdrop from which they were extracted.
I lost track of the cicadas in a span of weeks during which I was trying to put my head back together and in a general state of tunnel-vision.
Nothing stays buried forever. No matter how deep in the sand, eventually things emerge. What happens after that, though, is anyone’s guess.
Third places are important, but some are disappearing, public baths among them. This is one aspect of Japan’s declining social capital.
Because my cat is my most-requested topic
Long after the baby has grown into a man, he sits on a bench in a park in Japan, ten thousand kilometers and thirty-nine years from Lubbock.
There is a derelict house in my old neighborhood that surfaces in my dreams now and then. In reality, it is in Tokyo, boarded up and sitting behind a yard overgrown with tall grass.
Many people say they love Japan, but really only love a particular, highly distorted concept of it. They don’t realize it, and they don’t like it when you point it out.
The netting may be loosely draped or cinched up tight. It depends on the building. The effect of the former is not unlike a veil, while the latter suggests something more like a corset. In either case, the purpose is the same: to prevent problems caused by falling debris.
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