Tuesday, September 27, 2005

sketching 2

I didn't stop to stare and I certainly didn't stop to take a picture. I was too busy hurrying to my train. so all you get is a sketch of him.

It was around 10:45 at the train station. a little more than an hour before the last train heading into Tokyo and a little more that and hour and a half before the last train traveled out. I poured out of the bus, surrounded businessmen (I saw one woman) from companies like IBM, Fujitsu, NTT, and the techno type. If this particular businessman had been standing he probably wouldn't have caught my eye. but he sat, absorbed in his folder of papers on a bench, under a tree, by the bus stop.

he sat with his legs crossed, one ankle over the other knee, forming a nest for his papers. He wrote carefully and emphatically in ink, his strokes were neat and his characters clean. His hair cut, build and age were typical of 90% of the bus goers but what made him stand out was his naked foot. suspended in air, so misplaced from the rest of his image that it seemed almost diconnected from the ankle resting on the grey suited knee. floating not so far above its business style shoed counterpart. the empty shoe sat close by, quiet estranged from its naked twin and the busy pen on paper.

and I don't know what he wrote. even if I had paused for a second or looked over his shoulder, studying him, for half an hour, I would not have known what magic poured from that pen. While it looked like a folder full of figures and business matters, I choose not to believe that this dedicated scribbler choose to use the moments between 10:40pm and 10:50pm continuing his working toils. I choose to believe that, akin to urgent napkin poems and manifestos, this white collar worker suddenly became overwhelmed and had no choice but to pour his mind onto paper. he had no choice but to shape his world into lines of ink, neat and unsmeared as they were.

nut whether it was of an unrequitable desire, a moment of beauty, or a instance of disbelief, I shall never know. whether it was a hastily written invitation that he will slip into a lovers pocket or re-written mantra of compassion and strenth, I can only guess.

so I turn the image to you. a businessman, wearing a fitted suit, jacket and all except for naked foot balancing on his knee. he sits pouring over a simple paper folder of pages. he writes in pen and does not look up as the world pours by.


Anonymous said...

i can see that singular man sitting there so clear you write. i can see your thoughts in his supposed writings you write so clear. i can see that soul like an outpost estranged from the multitude. i can hear the thoughts you write into those writings.

Wonderful prose Corinna, Lee and I greatly enjoyed your words. We wait each day for you writings then print them out and pass them on to Meme and Bapa for them to see.

Our first hints of Fall here. More and more leaves being cloaked in the bright colors of Fall, neon reds, yellows, and dull browns. The returning Spring birds are drifting down from the North and hang out for a few days then pass on. No rain, but hints of some for the weekend.

Life is busy as a teacher as you know, many 12 hour days and nights. We are thinking of you. Thanks for writing.


Anonymous said...

Kori, Relatives, and friends,

Kelly passed on this late morning, peacefully, with his loving smile. He lived the best dog life of all time, never wore a collar in his beautiful ruff, and spread love unlimited where all he went. A truer soul there never was, the best companion of all time. He leaves me immobile with grief and loneliness. Please write me if you wish .. Hover6@msn.com. He so loved us all. Charlie