Riding the train into Tokyo, through various forms of residential districts and urban hubs, I always find myself amazed by the number of people living in such a tight space.
How are they connected, I wonder.
Does the person living in the upper bedroom of that house over there know who lives in the room on the fourth floor of the building across the street? Have they ever seen each other? Do they spend their entire lives narrowly passing each other and never meeting?
Is there a bar or a café around the corner from their homes that they don’t even know exists, a place where, if they could find their way there, they would meet someone who would totally transform their lives?
From my seat on the train, I imagine arched lines and circles connecting people throughout the city.
Red arrows burst through the ceiling of the upper bedroom of the house over there and stretch across the sky, touching down in other neighborhoods, other wards, other cities, other prefectures.
It’s fascinating to me how we close people can be to each other and yet never meet or connect.
endless possibilities
that will never be
lying where they fell
plum blossoms open
students in the gym rehearse
graduation
drops of rain
connect
even the snow seems bored
tired of winter
I hear my wife scold the kids
for the mess I made
on a black umbrella
disappear
