Library time again. Staring at Sunzi, scribbling revisions on a 9-month-old printout. Staring out a window and reconnecting with the ruminative inner self that you fostered during all those mornings at a low formica table in Tienmu library. Just sitting there. Meditation.

Late evening and you’re back in the high aesthetic realm of Genji. The tale moves on to the next generation and the one after that. Their concerns less momentous now that Genji and Murasaki are gone.  


They will

come to something, these

sunflower shoots

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