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.
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.
