94

While standing in the hallway trying to salvage a thoroughly mangled three hundred yen umbrella ($3.37 USD), a crisp, white slip of paper – again – came through the mail slot in the front door without warning. I was immediately tempted to use the umbrella to hook the person on the other side of the door through the mail slot and hold them until I could see their face, but I thought that it could possibly be a zombie in search of innards to feast on, in which case my actions would not only be rude, but a potentially tragic mistake. The floor in the hallway would become soiled with zombie goo, as even Japanese zombies don't remove their shoes when entering a home. Moreover, even if this zombie did politely leave their shoes at the entrance I would still have to contend with the putrid ooze and rot emerging from the filthy zombie socks. In the final analysis, a polite zombie is more problematic than an everyday zombie.

92

I try my best to send out a quick email each day as soon as I hear the Yūyake Koyake – the song that plays at 17:00 JST signaling the end of the school day. I type as quickly as possible, click the send button, then after a short delay the whooshing sound of Apple's Mail program floats briefly over the top of the song echoing from the speakers outside in the street. The arrival of the Yūyake Koyake always takes me by surprise and the volume on my computer is consistently lower than I expect it to be, which I always note as I film this process. Currently, the day ends with a whoosh, which seems perfectly matched to the fleeting nature of life. Yet, were I to change the mail program's alert sound from a whoosh to a duck's quack, then the entire affair would take on a different tone and probably conclude with a slip on a banana peel, or two men in a horse costume.

The sunset is the end of the day,
the bell from the mountain temple rings,
hand by hand let’s go back home together with the crows.
After the children are back at home a big and round moon shines,
when the birds dream, the brightness from the stars fills the sky.

15

Today while I was standing in the hallway thinking about going to the local paper museum a slip of paper came halfway through the mail slot in the front door. I stood motionless in the hallway, rotating my head towards the sound and watched it enter the apartment. I was tempted to start pushing it back out, or pulling it in just to see what would happen, but I didn't. I went into the kitchen and poured a glass of ポカリスエット (Pocari Suetto) with an exceptional meniscus. The trembling upper curve of the liquid indicated that a typhoon, or something else, is getting closer. As well, the sliding glass doors of the apartment are struggling against the strong winds, rattling in their aluminum frames in protest and generating an intermittent howling.