The Photonic Gutter

by Carson Reynolds

My memories have an indistinctly glint. Rainwater in the gutter of narrow streets blithely lit by 明かり. These project back on simulacra of San Diego’s feral humans. Thoughts drift to the space between Las Cruces and Albuqueque where you find nothing but radio waves and a town named after a quiz show. In Taketomi-jima there are walls made of coral and see-through crabs. In Firenze, standing above and below The Last Judgement you feel an ebb. In Siena you can cut Rosemary from the bush and eat effortlessly.

Fictionally during this time collected were McCabe’s The Butcher Boy, Lethem’s Fortress of Solitude, Shteyngart’s Absurdistan, Bowles’ The Sheltering Sky, McCullers’ The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. Unfinished are Thiong’o’s The Wizard and the Crow and Pamuk’s My Name is Red.

Catsoulis’ Designing Embedded Hardware is like the modernized and miniturized version of Horowitz and Hill’s Art of Electronics. But both of those were outdated by the memristor.

Yoshiko and I have moved to Asakusa. Frosty exhales and prowling tortoiseshells were left behind for an outcropping across from a music studio. The river, 浅草寺, small shoe workshops and new-old ways of doing things here agree with what we imagine Tokyo to be.

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