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PADDIES
At first it is a checkerboard of ponds neatly arrayed, reflecting the sun, the work of man, for God so rarely plays geometrician with creation, less often still using right angles. Soon enough green blades reach up through the shirred surface, random, reaching for a sun they can never touch. Later, it is a field,…
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SANCTUARY
The motion begins deep within you, bleeds quickly outward until it blankets the web between your fingers and toes, collects behind the ears as you hurtle on parallel steel threads connecting Tokyo and Osaka. You are down to the broad fields of golden-yellow beckoning the impending harvest, the rice swaying in the unfelt breeze. In…
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BULLET TRAIN
From the window of a speeding train the rice fields seem like carpets, today the gold of the alchemist’s dream, just months ago the green of imagined grasses over the next hill. When I sit down to dinner in Osaka, will the rice nestled in my chopsticks tell me of the dreams of those who…
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CLIFFSIDE AGAIN: HEKIGANROKU CASE 5
HSUEH FENG’S GRAIN OF RICE It is not the seeing but the looking that will drive you to the edge. It is easy to see, you hardly need eyes for that task, but to look is beyond seeing. Do you think this a mere grain of rice? Look closely, do you see the entire world?…
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an old writer and his words 