flemmings | (no subject)

Ima Ichiko's world is such a nice place to, err, visit. Her stories warp around you like a blanket; you poke your head out an hour later (after one or two rereads, usually) to find reality looking totally unfamiliar, not to mention unlikely. Stock market fluctuations? American elections? Overnight frost, even? Look, bud, I'm thinking about the mice in the walls. What's the cost of gas got to do with it?

Have been consuming #17 at the rate of a story a night, after which I sleep deeply because Japanese exhausts me. Tonight's was the best yet. And a good thing too, because I was supposed to have crepes at lunch with

umadoshi but someone's son started throwing up inopportunely and I had to go be her instead. Next year on Church St,

umadoshi.

And while the Kai lovers will be happy, I do wish there was more Aoarashi happening here. No matter. The things that inhabit Japanese houses can occupy me in the meantime.