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About Kyoto

But it’s tricky, precious, so tricky! Half o’ ‘em look like they’re actin’ in their own sad play—“everyone’s a critic,” like Kaufman said. I’m thinkin’, shit, am I the audience or the bloody fool here? Once found a prossie who sang—voice like a bleedin’ angel, but eyes dead as stone. Broke me heart, that. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d claw the moon down fer her, I would! Still, most times it’s just hagglin’—ten quid, twenty, whatever scraps I got. “The play’s the thing,” I hiss, cos it’s all a game, innit?

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So, I’m walkin’ down the street, tryin’ to act cool, but I’m feelin’ like a total mess. I pass by the Asakawa River, and it’s lookin’ all pretty and stuff. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and I’m like, “Wow, nature is flexin’ today.” But then, I see this dude trying to fish. He’s got this huge net, and I’m thinkin’, “Bro, you ain’t catchin’ anything here.”

‘Gravy on rice’: Denver journalist shares the joy of fusing Japanese and American cuisine