Photographs from a small group of islands
After a spot of cleansing,
some quality time with Kamakura’s distinguished Daibutsu,
is about as calming as a day out can be.
Provided, of course, one can cope with all the other people also after an impermanent piece of peace.
Or possibly a picture.
With temples decorously dotted all over Tokyo, there’s always the chance, should one want to seize it, of briefly breaking away from the hustle and bustle and settling down with some soothing sounds,
sights,
and, erm, sandals.
Of sorts.
As clichés go, bamboo and a bit of water will always take some beating, but at the same time, it’s almost equally unconquerable when it comes to being calming.
A fairly early flowering. Well, at least it is based on the belief of somebody who knows bugger all about botany.
And it’s plum, presumably.
With Tokyo’s appearance constantly changing, as buildings are unceremoniously ripped down and others rebuilt, the clichéd cry — at least in my native northern Britain — of, ‘it was all fields round here when I were a lad’, is really rather apt.
However, at least as far as this pensioner is concerned, it’s possibly quite the opposite, as the place wasn’t a field but a factory, and one that was ferociously bombed into a fiery inferno.
Which, it has to be said, is a considerable contrast to contemplate.
For all the negative qualities of continuing to coat the country in absolutely colossal amounts concrete, on a cold and crisp winter’s day, its heat retaining attributes at least make the riverbank the perfect place to briefly park one’s behind.
Although as this unrelenting approach has rendered the views less than resplendent, reading material is recommended — required even.