You have no items in your cart. Want to get some nice things?Go shopping
I was the boy in the morning, losing his parasol. I was the parasol, caught by a breeze. I was the breeze. At the corner, I was a shelf of bonsai trees in miniature, one after another. I was a cat, walking along the edge of a narrow canal which ran behind square, wooden houses. And I was the cat on the fence of a garden housing mossy stones (me), a stone lantern (me) and a pine tree. I was the pine tree. I was every pine needle in the breeze. I was the breeze. I was the whole neighborhood. I was side streets meeting the main drag. I was shopfronts, my day’s business underway. I was invitations inside. The deliverymen and tradesmen and salesmen were me. I was seeking transactions agreeable to all.
Asleep on a roof at noon, I was a third cat. I was the 1,000 tiles of the roof. I was the 100 roofs of the neighborhood. All along a ledge, I was a number of sparrows. On my drying platform, I hung laundry. I was cotton drying in the sun. I was this warmth. In my yard, I walked to the rice barrel. I was the rice barrel. Lid weighted with a stone. I was the stone. I was this weight. I was 1,000,000,000 grains of rice. I was the rat going after the rice. I was a fourth cat going after the rat. In pursuit. Pursued. Across town, I was a horse tied by my reins to a post. I was the sleeping dog in the shadow of the hot afternoon. I was the tortoise balanced incongruously atop a stubby, upright stick, slowed further. On the porch of an open room, I was a client, on my belly, and I applied the needles. Each infinitesimal, invisible needle was me.
I was the gossip of the evening. I was a scattering of lily pads like fingerprints. Cross-legged, I spoke to a cross-legged audience of nine. Paper lanterns lit themselves: I was these. I was this night-time scene—audience and speaker. I was all ears. I was 100 toes. I was sandals ranked at the entranceway. I retained the warmth of their hot feet. I was this warmth. I was this charged stillness. I was 1,000 gestures and movements. I was living moment to moment. I couldn’t last. I was unfurnished. I was without bed or chair. I was out of sorts. I wasn’t myself, for a while. I was a thin home of sliding partitions.