an old writer and his words

  • OMOTESANDO

    When I would visit TokyoI often went to Shibuya where,on the second floor of an old buildingon Omotesando, a block printmerchant shared space withsouvenir vendors and artists.I would pick out prints that werereasonably priced, imagingfor a moment the were by Hokusaior Hiroshige, although I knew whatthey would cost if I could find them.Still, I’d carefully…

    Lou Faber

  • A RETURN SOMEDAY

    Some day I need to returnto Tokyo and walk its streetslistening for the soundtrackthat Haruki Murakami requiresof the city, bebop jazzin Shinjuku, classical whenwandering Asakusa and Senso-ji,and rock on the streets of Shibuya. I have often been there, butmy soundtrack was thatof horns and the clatterof a pachinko parlor, orthe pitched giggles of younggirls walking…

    Lou Faber

  • MUSING TOKYO

    1 In Asakusaamid the stallsof trinkets and swordswhy do the gaijinall speak German,Italian, Spanish and Swedishand English is reservedto a couple if Nisei. 2 In a small laundromatin Akasakaan old womanclucks and shuffleson wooden sandalspulling kimonosfrom the dryer.My t-shirtsare still damp. 3 In Shibuyathere is a smallstorefront pet shop,its windows fullof cat ryokansome with bedsothers…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO MEMORIES

    1. An older, silver-haired woman in neon green pants, a brown blouse and black shop apron stoops and carefully scrubs the alleyway outside her small shop. 2. Salarymen fill the tunnels of Kokkai-gijidomae station at 6 P.M., 7, 8, and in fewer numbers, 9, shuffling down the long corridors to the Chiyoda or Marunouchi Line trains,…

    Lou Faber