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About Yokohama

What gets me, right, is the quiet bits. Like in *Syndromes*, when that monk’s just sittin’, starin’ at nowt. Prossies got that too – waitin’ on corners, smokin’ a fag, watchin’ the world. “Did you see the eclipse?” – another movie bit, pops in me head. Bet she did, standin’ there, moon blockin’ sun, thinkin’ bout her next punter. Poetic, innit? Makes me wanna hug em all, but, y’know, boundaries.

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I grab my drink and head out. The streets of Fujishiro are buzzing. I stroll down Shōwa-dōri, and it’s packed with people. I love the vibe here. It’s like everyone’s in their own world, but somehow we’re all connected. I spot this street performer, a guy playing the shamisen. He’s got mad skills! I stop to listen, and suddenly, I’m transported. It’s like the music is telling me stories. I’m grinning like an idiot.

Motoko Fujishiro Huthwaite, ‘a force of nature’ who helped preserve WWII artifacts, spent final days in Taylor