an old writer and his words

  • NIGHTWAY TOKYO

    It is well into the Season When Thunder Sleeps and the crowds no longer snaked through  Shinjuku Park where even the stones were in quiet hibernation. The sun fell quickly sucking away the light bringing the sleep of dreams and nightmares, of love and terror and despair. The night chant began for yet another night…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO SCENES (PART 2)

    Scene 1 From atop the Century Hyatt Shinjuku Chuo Park is a desolate maze of asphalt, its fountains stilled by winter. The horizon is dotted by the cranes, great and small, perched precariously engaged in their manic dance bending and swooping in defiance of the gods. Scene 2 Shinjuku Station is washed by the waves of…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO SCENES (PART 1)

    Scene I Garish neon blazes its siren call, Lucky 7777, Vegas Land, Anima Parlor, countless others, and inside the Pachinko machines scream out their riotous cacophony, drowning thought as the balls dance in their maze indifferent to the intent stares of the player, and the smoke which covers the room with its acrid pall. Scene…

    Lou Faber

  • SHRINE

    In the cramped dark little temple the Buddha casts his smile for the duration of a match and then you are returned to the pitch of the life from which you sought solace. Another match, another smile I am here always he whispers, you need only close your eyes to truly see me.

    Lou Faber

  • AWAKENING

    He could not hope to remember how he got there, he had wandered in search of nothing in particular, save dinner as his hunger grew, but in Shinjuku you needn’t read Japanese since the menus sat molded in plastic in the window of even the smallest restaurants. He began to look more intently when he…

    Lou Faber

  • 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…

    Lou Faber

  • ENDLESS FLIGHT

    Painfully jammed into the middle seat of five three hours into the fourteen hour flight SFO to Tokyo Narita, it is easy to imagine myself a sheet of origami paper carefully and precisely folded into a crane wings bound in anticipation of taking to the air.

    Lou Faber

  • SHINJUKU

    The sun rises slowly painfully, stiff from the cold night air, creeping upward, barely warming the streets. In Shinjuku Central Park the trees are still despite the cold breeze. The small group gathers for morning stretches and Tai Chi, smiling toward the fountain and the ten foot waterfall they call Niagara. The siren cuts through…

    Lou Faber

  • DAWN

    Early morning Tokyo awakens, gray, moist. In the small park the crows listen for the Temple bell then bowing to the Buddha, call out their morning chants.

    Lou Faber

  • KANNON

    Under the compassionate eye of the Bodhisattva the cats at Senso-ji Temple curl around the incense burners on a cold December morning, ignoring countless pigeons hopping impatiently, awaiting flocks of school children in neat uniforms and rainbow backpacks, each with a slice or two of stale bread. The Buddha watches with a gentle smile.

    Lou Faber