Places in Tokyo can be so quiet.
The climb out of Oji Station took me over the rails and up the side of a hill. On these crossovers,
the backstage of the Japan Rail system is available for leisurely inspection. Tracks and power
lines run away to other quiet stations. Tired train cars absorb the sunny warmth. Grass and flowers
grow undisturbed along walls, between utility buildings. 1300 hydrangea bushes cover the hillside
and bloom in early Summer. Hardly a sound disturbs the peace between trains.
Every walk across the tracks, like every view from the top of a school building, is obstructed by
a mesh of wire. Perhaps for salarymen and student alike, the choice spots for their last breath
are above the symbols of their torment.
Schoolgirls followed me silently and at a safe distance as we ascended the long cement stairs.
Kids playied intently in the park, under a silvery Autumn sky. Everything was chilled by
the wind, and the cherry trees were perfectly bare. Tucked away beside the fountain
and behind a polished cherrywood railing,
a large inscribed stone was displayed.
Unable to read either the stone or
the sign beside it, perhaps it tells
of Tokagawa generocity. I’ll return
someday and read it very carefully.
After three decades in advertising
I was surprised to find new-to-me
technology at the paper museum,
in the form of an interesting card-
board corregating machine.
Each of the musuems I visited
offered a keepsake that looked
much like a bookmark, blank on
one side, which allowed me
to collect an inked rubber
stamp imprint, proof
that I had indeed
been a visitor.