Mosaics
I took three photographs today, as I walked with Lauren through Ikebukuro and back by myself. I didn't use a camera.
A man sat in the station near the Yamanote line, hugging his knees to his chest, his head lowered. He wore all black and leaned up against the wall. He might have even been homeless. I saw a story.
Two kids, maybe 4 or 5 years old, leaned up against a building together, behind their mothers. They had on little hats. It was a little before one in the afternoon, so the lighting was perfect. Everything was a different shade of gray.
An old couple threw bread crumbs on the bridge across the river. The ducks got most of them, and also the pigeons. A little blue sharp-beaked bird hid in the bushes next to the water and caught a few of the crumbs in the air as they were thrown. He was a clever little thing. But I didn't see the tanuki again.
I wish my eyes had film in them that I could develop at the end of my life.
A man sat in the station near the Yamanote line, hugging his knees to his chest, his head lowered. He wore all black and leaned up against the wall. He might have even been homeless. I saw a story.
Two kids, maybe 4 or 5 years old, leaned up against a building together, behind their mothers. They had on little hats. It was a little before one in the afternoon, so the lighting was perfect. Everything was a different shade of gray.
An old couple threw bread crumbs on the bridge across the river. The ducks got most of them, and also the pigeons. A little blue sharp-beaked bird hid in the bushes next to the water and caught a few of the crumbs in the air as they were thrown. He was a clever little thing. But I didn't see the tanuki again.
I wish my eyes had film in them that I could develop at the end of my life.