...my heart is still in greener spaces. As in the mountains, rows of pink flank the rivers, dot the hills. In Shin Osaka station, I'm stopped dead by the sight of a massive photo of a mountain ridgeline. This same photograph, in its incarnation as a newspaper cutout, used to hang over my desk in the 'Nog. I'm still struck by the shape of the mountainscape, my feet long to wander her flank. Yet her identity still remains a mystery.
Down in the streets, I'm still dwarfed, still humbled, but here it is by steel and glass. At a glance, I see branches and twigs piled atop themselves in an industrial garage. Two steps on, at a glance, I see that they are hoses and lengths of twisted metal.
Here the air is far less fresh. Sidewalk smokers continue to Speak Lark...
On the turntable: Grateful Dead, "Hundred Year Hall" On the nighttable: Kaoru Nonomura, "Eat, Sleep, Sit"