Six o’clock. Greeting her in the dim light, the mirror on the far wall can only fit a proportionate view of her features. It is small and inornate, but she can see a pair of eyes and ears, a nose and lips. She is a writer, but nobody the likes of Virginia Woolf stares back…
“I don’t want to do this job for that long. I don’t want to do it now if I’m honest. Who wants to sit around and talk to disgusting men? Nobody.”
Sophia sat across from me in the corner of a routine train station cafe in Japan’s capital. The icy January air mingled with my…
The street bustles with a steady stream of visitors. Every now and again, one individual will pause, examining a store’s goods. Amongst this, Papa Noel stands outside too, his thin long-sleeve top protecting him from the chilly wind that moves through the shopping arcade. In one hand, he clutches a thermos; his other holds a…
The legacy of one William Shakespeare specifically outlined the various separate qualities of a tragedy and a comedy: two stories destined never to interlink, telling tales of diverse passions, whether joyful or dour.
On the other hand, the legacy of me, you ask? Well, I managed to break down any visible barrier between the two-story…
The black coffee reflects the vague shape of a little boy who thinks he's a man. It's rather off-putting, to be honest. Like the transition stage between looking too young to be considered old, but looking too old to be considered young.
He scrutinises this a bit more; his nose is swollen and kinda twisted.…
“You are not drunk!”
It’s two in the morning and I’m shouting at a mountain – I’m definitely drunk.
A weekend trip that replaced Tokyo’s highrise buildings with grand mountains was a much-needed breath of fresh air. I was in Japan to encourage my identity as a writer and add some fresh work to my…
It’s strange.
You arrive to a new land, there are people to greet you.
At first you don’t understand; in fact, you don’t understand for quite a while.
But speaking your mother tongue never did you any good anyway. Communication was always hard for you.
They say things with their hidden contexts and words you…
During my stay in Japan, I observed a lot of fortune-telling in Tokyo. I write “observed” because I found it difficult to get my own fortune told given that my Japanese extends no further than, “bīru, kudasai” – one beer, please. I write “difficult” because it is a nice way of saying that I was…
The first thing I noticed about Colombo Cornershop was its owner doling out takeaway coffees from the side window. His bowl haircut and baggy red jumper were visible behind the glass, his hands at work on the steaming DeLonghi machine. He moved slowly, economically, with the focus of a sniper. He smiled at customers like…
Hi, I’m interested in your collection.
*Delete Delete Delete*
Hello, I would like to come and see your dolls.
*Delete Delete Delete*
Maybe I should write this in Japanese. Wait, who the fuck is this email even going to. Ok, ok, let’s just Google translate a few ideas.
English to Japanese has me feeling…
I can feel my face turning a warm, visibly peachy colour as those uncomfortable, familiar prickles run up my neck, around my ears, even to the end of my nose. The little old lady is huddled over something on the bench with her back to me. I've been standing here for over a minute and…
The Sumida river flows through Tokyo the way the memory of Fisherman Yoru (night in Japanese) will course through my head, reminding me about the joys of being alive.
Months ago, back in Singapore, I met someone who introduced me to a world of illegal fishing. Something about rivers in the dead of the night…