This was one of the first pieces of fiction I wrote when I moved to Japan that actually engaged with my surroundings. I kept a blog almost daily, and I was working on a novel that eventually went nowhere, but I wrote little fiction about Japan in those early days. Part of it, I think, was processing. Emotion recollected in tranquility, as Wordsworth put it: I needed time to let the raw impressions filter, settle, and rise up again. You can see that in the descriptions of Nagoya station in this piece.
Behind the Words: Turnstile
Behind the Words: Turnstile
Behind the Words: Turnstile
This was one of the first pieces of fiction I wrote when I moved to Japan that actually engaged with my surroundings. I kept a blog almost daily, and I was working on a novel that eventually went nowhere, but I wrote little fiction about Japan in those early days. Part of it, I think, was processing. Emotion recollected in tranquility, as Wordsworth put it: I needed time to let the raw impressions filter, settle, and rise up again. You can see that in the descriptions of Nagoya station in this piece.