Vessel Log: 2009 02 01

: J. was an hour early for the Hokkaido Farmers’ Orchestra. The snow reflects, an evolutionary trait for survival. Double action. Cuts absorption of energy, blinds its enemy. Meet K. and her friend T. in the lobby of the cultural center. Sitting front row I watch shoes, some tapping; poised; buckled; polished. Swelling music. Stringed instruments, horse hair bows, dancing conductor. Choir faces. A man who smelled like burning wood, a former teacher, asks to speak with us. “Many Japanese soldiers died in the Pacific due to starvation. We need to study our history.” “Yes, we all do.” J. and I walk to soup curry. The warmth of Seize the Day, the spice in the soup makes walking on ice and its fragility a souvenir. Kindness of strangers can be disorientating.