Thursday, November 30, 2006


Poetry in the unlikeliest places

Riding up Sakaisuji to Kitahama station, previous night's liquid consumption thumping in my ears, sandpaper behind my eyes.

Suddenly I found myself riding between fallen hand towels, all neatly rolled and in their clear wrapper, strewn across the road like petals on Ophelia's coffin. I guess that one of the hand towel vans was involved in some kind of mishap.

It was strangely beautiful. Like the first snowfall of the year.

I went to work and busied myself handing out the black spot to the my colleagues. Some of them really earned it today.

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