Confessions of an Author

The Imperial Gardens in Tokyo 1 We got a taxi to the Imperial Gardens (which was very silly, as the underground is a fraction of the price, safe and clean and would have delivered us to Hibiya station in less time. But we’re tourists – knowing things takes time). We passed the  Nijubashhi , which is a stone bridge over the river, and used to be the main entrance. Lots of people were taking photos, so we did too, assuming this was a famous landmark. We walked to the park entrance, which seemed like a long way in the hot sun, and there weren’t many signs, but we found it eventually. I was glad I had worn comfy shoes (will not repeat Husband’s feedback comments). We were issued with tickets, which were free, and had to be returned at the end (am not entirely sure of their purpose). The gardens were a mix of huge walls (the Japanese are very good at walls) and random buildings. We passed a restroom, which is NOT a washroom, but rather a shady area to sit and rest...

Startled by Beauty 4 I turn a corner, and happen upon a small pond, filled with water irises all in bloom, their sword-shaped leaves reaching towards the sky. The pond is edged with azalea and has a backdrop of shaped fir trees. It is beautiful, a tiny spot of perfection. Husband took a sneaky photo of me while I was writing this. All around me, people are taking photographs. There are kneeling professionals, aiming long lenses for the best angle, tourists with iphones, teenagers taking selfies. Everyone pauses, surprised by the beauty, snaps a shot. Then they move on. Very few make use of the wooden benches, stop a while, take time to absorb the scene. We have become a species that rushes to record, to collect, to own. But we rarely live in the moment. How many of these photographs, I wonder, will be examined, enjoyed. Or will they too be quickly glanced at before put away, the next event always being more pressing, more important. This was art. The sculptured trees,...