Surprising stories about Tokyo and its interesting intertwining inhabitants, tied together with the reappearance of a calico cat. Those I found most moving were of Ohashi, a homeless man who once was a storyteller, Makoto, a game’s enthusiast with dry humour and Flo, an American translator interested in Japanese language. There is also a threatening undertone. I found the Japanese words no obstacle to understanding and savouring the text.
I lit a cigarette and looked the other way. These work nights out were such a drag. It would've been great if I could get out of them like Flo, that American translator girl. She just said she wasn't feeling well, and everyone let her off. Why couldn't I do that? Sad fact: because I'm Japanese. And the nail that sticks out will be hammered in.
