I bet the guy in the back works at a fish shop or ramen restaurant kitchen. De rigeur footwear for wet environments. Both tend to wear those aprons too.
Yes, the fella in the background works in a kitchen, hence the boots. Also the little set of shops/eateries is on the grounds of Tsukiji fish market, so the old man could have been heading there after. A place where rubber boots are definitely a good idea.
So sadly not a new trend. Or at least not one that I’m aware of!
Genzo sighed. And not for the first time. Nor, he reflected, would it be the last.
It didn’t seem to matter how many times he visited this haunted place and removed as many ceramic plates, bowls and cups and saucers as would fit in his basket, because whenever he returned, there were always more to replace the ones he had taken. More. And more. Always more.
How many years had he been coming here? Thirty years? Forty? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that people didn’t understand that the threat was real—laughed in his face or shook their heads, really—and that only he stood determinedly between this quiet, insidious, multi-patterned and high-glaze horror and a blissfully ignorant world.
He sighed again and, stooping, began to grimly place more of the mysterious plates in his basket.
Martin says
The old guy and the man behind him are both wearing rubber boots. Is that a new men’s fashion trend in Tokyo?
Pat says
I bet the guy in the back works at a fish shop or ramen restaurant kitchen. De rigeur footwear for wet environments. Both tend to wear those aprons too.
Lee says
Yes, the fella in the background works in a kitchen, hence the boots. Also the little set of shops/eateries is on the grounds of Tsukiji fish market, so the old man could have been heading there after. A place where rubber boots are definitely a good idea.
So sadly not a new trend. Or at least not one that I’m aware of!
Zaheer Baber says
excellent photography and window to tokyo! thanks!
Lee says
You are welcome. And thank you very much!
MrSatyre says
Genzo sighed. And not for the first time. Nor, he reflected, would it be the last.
It didn’t seem to matter how many times he visited this haunted place and removed as many ceramic plates, bowls and cups and saucers as would fit in his basket, because whenever he returned, there were always more to replace the ones he had taken. More. And more. Always more.
How many years had he been coming here? Thirty years? Forty? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that people didn’t understand that the threat was real—laughed in his face or shook their heads, really—and that only he stood determinedly between this quiet, insidious, multi-patterned and high-glaze horror and a blissfully ignorant world.
He sighed again and, stooping, began to grimly place more of the mysterious plates in his basket.
Lee says
Wonderful. That adds so much more to the photo. Thank you.
Jenn says
I’ve no interest in the crockery, but I want a basket like that!
Lee says
I didn’t see any for sale there, but it’s clearly a new one. Oddly out of place with the rest of his appearance I thought.