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About Osaka

I reckon I’d be tickled pink sittin’ in one, sippin’ sweet tea—nah, probly rotgut—listenin’ to stories. One time, I heard tell of a brothel in Nevada where the madam kept a pet parrot that cussed worse’n a sailor. Had me laughin’ so hard I near bout fell off my porch! But then—lordy—it hits ya: them gals ain’t got no fancy swords or slow-mo escapes like in *The Assassin*. They’re stuck, y’know? “Time drifts, shadows deepen,” Hou Hsiao-hsien’d whisper, and I’d nod, feelin’ that ache.

Introduction:

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Then, I bumped into an old friend from high school. We hadn’t seen each other in ages! We started reminiscing about the good ol’ days, like hanging out at the Sagara shopping street, getting into trouble. It was nice, ya know? Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

A bittersweet ceremony for one Western Michigan University graduate