Original Contents: © LOGOS for web (http://www.logos-web.net/)


2003 Takayuki Kido
printed on Tokyo Underground Public Review "SPEAK" Dec., 2005
The red thing -- Yes, it might be a key word. Red sandals, red turban, reddening heel, and reddening kneecap -- Only those red things beautifully cheated me. It enchanted, it despised, it approached, it rebuked or it disappeared suddenly, it was and they drew out all the one from me to them after that manner, and all the one was pushed.
Therefore, I always a love yearning aimless, wanders, and negotiates like a bullfight that misunderstood it, and it settles me down sideward of the railway track, or by the manhole where lid opened, or in the coppice of midnight, after all, in the armchair of none of cafes that are.
The waiter comes to nearby soon and he whispers to me,
"What will you order?"
I answer exaggeratedly or very with unassuming modesty.
"Cafe au lait -- don't make a mistake, not caffe latte, but cafe au lait"
Then, the waiter returns to the kitchen with while bowing, when he makes coffee with a good smell besides and comes out, he regrets and presents it to the table. Soundlessly. When I take the cup by the finger that trembled with a tension absorbed because of the appearance, I soundlessly still apply my lip. The waiter bends forward when the back of the next chair is feeling gripped to my coffee with eyes nailed down and sits down. I pretend not to know.
It is easy. We two person don't talk by something three duplicity remarks observing the road goer from the terrace of the midafternoon, we speaks completely afterwards, nakedness that puts on clothes is imagined, and old age is imagined. We don't question closely because it is troublesome even if either says "A-ha" or "Indeed". I become alone if the guest comes, and he returns after a while. The air conditioner of the shop is broken, and the sound of the fan keeps sounding.

-- Daily life, if this is daily life usually?

I did not pay money (No, actually paid accurately) and stormed out of the cafe. However, I begin to walk at once. Because one mule makes noise and it passed. Because a red skirt set up two erotic, sharp wrinkles athwart. What am I doing? Pitifully I wander about the night, I rolls in the night without addressing for an unpleasant person, I dance, I wink, and I will look up at the and usual sky of the dawn. Faces who have knowing by sight back of the alley hurry home with an unsteady gait. It is a ground. It is a ground that is enclosed by the fence and not put where which surrounding building it accompanies is not understood. I hold the face to the fence, and look up at the sky of morning haze where it goes as clearness. It is a morning sun. It becomes light, I am lacked wholly, and it erases it on a hazy morning at the moment.