I leant back in the seat, fingers poised over the keyboard.
Why?
Sorry for the melodrama. It's not what you think, I promise.
The internet cafe is a stone's throw from Fujigaoka station, crouched under a bustling Izakaya. Mundane? Far from it! Private booth: sofa, chair. Your bed for the night, or as long as you choose. Thrum hum of air con. Whisper of cloth, creak of leather. Free drinks, cheap food.
I cradled my bowl of miso soup, basking in its heady fumes. Peace. Do you see?
--
The manic shout of light and sound was extinguished with a purr of the automatic door. I stood for a moment, shaking my umbrella free of those more tenacious flakes of snow. As my senses thawed from the onslaught of a winterlocked Tokyo, I caught a hint of spice. Hiss of pans, laughter, chatter. Refuge!
I prised my token from the machine on the wall. The chef received it with a bow, and was quickly lost in the drifting clouds of steam that courted the center of the Ramen house. I sunk onto my pew, quickly losing myself in the bubbling, stirring, shifting, pouring across from me.
Do you see now?
Some crave vivid culture, others yearn for virgin nature. All well and good, but if my stomach's still rumbling at the end of the day, count me out. What frames every sunrise; seals each tentative new friendship? What does it all boil down to? It's the food.
Delicious, exciting, enticing. Sweet, smoky, smear it all over me.
The city - home of Karaoke, Kyabakura and Konbini? Sure. But udon, sushi, sashimi - thank god! Share my delight as I discover for myself this paradise of food. May your inner fat-man rejoice as I dole out juicy, eaty secrets, alongside the week's mischief.
Our first Adventure: Prawn.
Why?
Sorry for the melodrama. It's not what you think, I promise.
The internet cafe is a stone's throw from Fujigaoka station, crouched under a bustling Izakaya. Mundane? Far from it! Private booth: sofa, chair. Your bed for the night, or as long as you choose. Thrum hum of air con. Whisper of cloth, creak of leather. Free drinks, cheap food.
I cradled my bowl of miso soup, basking in its heady fumes. Peace. Do you see?
--
The manic shout of light and sound was extinguished with a purr of the automatic door. I stood for a moment, shaking my umbrella free of those more tenacious flakes of snow. As my senses thawed from the onslaught of a winterlocked Tokyo, I caught a hint of spice. Hiss of pans, laughter, chatter. Refuge!
I prised my token from the machine on the wall. The chef received it with a bow, and was quickly lost in the drifting clouds of steam that courted the center of the Ramen house. I sunk onto my pew, quickly losing myself in the bubbling, stirring, shifting, pouring across from me.
Do you see now?
Some crave vivid culture, others yearn for virgin nature. All well and good, but if my stomach's still rumbling at the end of the day, count me out. What frames every sunrise; seals each tentative new friendship? What does it all boil down to? It's the food.
Delicious, exciting, enticing. Sweet, smoky, smear it all over me.
The city - home of Karaoke, Kyabakura and Konbini? Sure. But udon, sushi, sashimi - thank god! Share my delight as I discover for myself this paradise of food. May your inner fat-man rejoice as I dole out juicy, eaty secrets, alongside the week's mischief.
Our first Adventure: Prawn.
Back alleys of Shinjuku
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