Sublime

nisei

A little after two, we made it back to Minowa, the closest station to my place. Stopping along the way for a 210-yen bowl of noodles, we braved the heat and walked the ten minutes home, while the cries of cicadas smeared the atmosphere.

Asuka watched nervously as Nagare transferred a series of tiny plates, each smaller than the palm of his hand, onto the lacquer tray in front of her. ‘These are so pretty!’ she found herself blurting out. ‘Oh, they’re a real mix. Antiques, old Western plates, some by modern artisans . . .’