an old writer and his words

  • AKASAKA

    It sits off an alleythat winds off an alleyhalfway up the hillyou climb from Akasakato Ropponggi, cursing the layoutof the subway at the endof a too long day of meetings.There are no plastic samplesin a glass case outside the doorjust a t-shirt and beer mug, forribs and fires don’t translate wellto polystyrene and the loudoldies…

    Lou Faber

  • BENDING DREAMS

    In Hawaii I could stare for hours at a taro field, the bent back of a farmer, and the same a gentle fold of spine I saw from the Shinkansen, Tokyo to Osaka amid the fields of yellow, later rice in some bowl perhaps even mine, or in Antwerp as the chef patiently picked over…

    Lou Faber

  • NICE JOB

    It is stall after stall of tomates de Provence, choux wishing to be kale, peches, small and barely containing their juice. Courgettes beckon, pommes de terre call out their aerieal cousins, haricots quietly suggest a citron aussi. Walking along the boulevard a tourist obviously, without bags or cart, I get polite nods that say me…

    Lou Faber