A City of Wonders

Go out into the city. Kanji, hiragana, katakana, English, romaji; Japanese food, Western food, Chinese, ethnic cuisines; Japanese dogs, Malteses, Chihuahuas, Chow Chows; domestic cars, Mercedes, Alfa Romeos, Peugeots, Cadillacs; wood, steel frame, brick, glass; cut flowers from every country in the world, potted plants, branches, flowering trees; fashion of every kind and variety… It is a setting we take as perfectly ordinary rather than as any surprising discovery, but Tokyo is a wondrous, mysterious city with no equal anywhere in the world.

And I was, without a doubt, born and raised in this city. Though one can never see oneself clearly, I find it strange that, in a city this fascinating, the faces and self-expression of so many who live here should feel so impoverished. Whether they have come to lean too heavily on material and environmental abundance and lost sight of themselves I cannot say, but—whether it is fun or joyful, funny or sad, delicious or not—I wish they would say it honestly, through their faces and their expression.

As companions who share the same span of time, I wish they would live as themselves. We understand in our heads that it is because we have only one life to live, and yet this turns out to be no easy thing. It is something I keep telling myself, too.