Like shiva with a penchant for electronics

by Carson Reynolds

After returning from a week in Boston and two weeks in Laval and Paris, France, I found that the building across the street no longer existed. This is an entertaining bit of Tokyo, the rate at which the city devours and renews itself. In the five months since I have moved onto my street, on my block alone two buildings have been deconstructed (in the non-philosophical sense) and a new apartment building built in the place of one.

My occasion for traveling to Boston was the wedding of my childhood pal Roger. Neither flooding nor fainting could prevent the groom and bride from becoming happily married or the wedding guests from enjoying the reception.

With 48 hours of flying amortized over a few weeks there was plenty of time. And so Roth’s The Human Stain, Golding’s Rites of Passage, Coetzee’s Youth, and Atwood’s Blind Assassin each consumed a bit of it. Each in differently agreeable ways.

Somewhere amongst all that I became a 30-year-old.

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