an old writer and his words

  • EVER PATIENT

    Fuji-san, its snow cap slowly retreating,smiles down on the ever goldening rice shoots.The holy mountain pays no notice to the Shinkansenhurtling its way from Tokyo to Osakanot pausing to pay homage to the godswho inhabit the venerable volcano and whohave grown tired awaiting the favor of thoserushing, always rushing, to be somewhere else.Fuji-san knows that…

    Lou Faber

  • 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

  • SENSO-JI

    Walking slowly through the Hozomon GateSenso-ji lies before me, as if to say thisis your home in Tokyo, you are welcome here.I pause to take a photograph and realize thatto the Japanese here I am one more gaijinalthough I do not carry the shopping bagsthat most do from their fascination withthe stalls that crowd the…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO SNAPSHOTS

    In the small yardof the matchbox housethe lone Ginkgotwisted by timefeels the barrennessof winter’s tongueand mournsits solitude. The apartment building looms upover the tracks of the Narita Expressthe balconies are deserted, savefor the laundry which flapsin the morning breeze,slapping with the gustsinto the small satellite dishesbolted to the railings. The ancient trees are twistedand gnarled,…

    Lou Faber

  • WEATHER KARMA

    It never rainedwhen I visited Senso-jiand Todai-ji Temples.I attributed this to goodfortune, the Buddhaclearing the skiesfor my visit.The young monksaid the Buddhacares nothingfor weather, soI should thankthe Japan MeteorologicalAgency although theynever seem to givehim the weatherhe truly wants.

    Lou Faber

  • IN SILENCE

    Sitting in stillness, the silenceis at first shocking, deafeningin a way unimagined but there.Within the lack of sound liesa thousand sounds younever heard in the din of life.You hear the young monk at Senso-jiapproach the great bell and pullback on the log shu-moku, straining.You hear the laugh of school agedchildren hand in hand walking throughthe…

    Lou Faber

  • SENSO-JI

    By hour six, the plane was just a lumbering beast dividing the sky, halfway from God knows where to nowhere special. His body cried for sleep but he knew he had to deny it. That much he had learned from prior trips. For when he landed, made his way painfully slowly into the city, it…

    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

  • SENSO-JI

    They crowd the stalls, searchingamid what the Japanese would have to calltchotchkes if they were Jewish. Few bother to see the great Buddhapeereing out of the Buddha hallquestioning their judgment. They could buy their fortunesfor a mere hundred yen coin, but theybelieve it better spent here, This the marketplace formsa phalanx that makes a visitto…

    Lou Faber

  • SENBAZURU

    10,000 origami cranesfloated down over Tokyoeach bearing the soul of one gone in nature’s recent fury.Each crane cried freelythe tears flowing into the Sumidaforming a wave that washesback to the sea, replenishing its loss.We, too, shed our tearsand look skywardsad in the knowledgethat with each passing daystill more craneswill fill the skymore tears seep backto…

    Lou Faber