Left sunny autumn Tokyo to return to the 'Nog and into the open arms of a snowstorm. As it embraced me, I stiffened. It's too early for this much snow. The gingko trees are still at their peak and haven't yet let go of their bright yellow brilliance. I'm not ready, especially this year, with a summer which wouldn't end. Yet I was able to delight in gliding on a sarangi through snowy mountainscapes. There's a certain dignity in snow. And a melancholy in its beauty.
I was also able to come up with this:
How pleasant to walk
Thru snow covered streets,
My belly full of rice
Tonite I'll settle myself in with a Krishna Das DVD and some warm sake, fending off the cold...
On the turntable: Sultan Khan/Krishna Das, "a drop of the ocean"
On the nightable: Hanif Kureishi, "Intimacy"
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