Mood mapping and weather
Literary Psycho-Geography of Edo/Tokyo (and Amsterdam) research phase

The following text table (preceded by some sky images) is a first, very simple exercise based on 156 psycho-geographic quotes from the 10th to the 21th century, describing Edo/Tokyo, more particular, the influence on the mind  of the urban environment (and vice versa) as expressed in literature.
Its aim is to clarify the combined elements of season, part of day, and weather as a recurrent literary device for describing 'mood'. Creating an atmosphere that conveys a state of mind, psychology, through text.

For a start I have simply made a search on the word 'sky' in all the 156 quotes in the actual database on Edo/Tokyo, which resulted in 32 hits. Only in two cases the word sky did not relate to weather (skylark & skyline) these words have been marked in red, all the other usages of the word 'sky' have been marked in blue. The vocabulary, in relation to the word 'sky', used to convey mood, has been marked in bold type.
There are of course many more 'mood' descriptions using season, part of day, and weather, as important elements, applying other words as 'sky', they will be found in the next stage of the project when all the quotes (my aim is at least to have 250 examples) will be classified by interpreting them on their content and not, as now, by an electronic searching routine.

This is only a first, preliminary attempt to find elements that can be used to visualize 'mood', more precisely, to map 'mood'; to find inspirational material for such an abstraction.

Just looking at this somewhat arbitrary selection, there are several more elements to be noted, also part of a 'palet'  to create mood, to 'paint' atmosphere. Smell and sound for instance. Smell description has been marked purple and sound green. Often such elements are not described directly, but denoted, like the absence of sound (silence) or the mentioning of an element we might associate with  a certain smell.
That is not all of course... temperature, touch, interaction betweeen elements of the human environment and the forces of nature are mentioned  as well (like 'steaming roofs' or 'electric lights distorted by smog'), often they are secondary devices.

When looking at this first selection one is tempted to conclude that the visual element of season, part of day, and weather, or maybe better the expression of colour patterns and changes, as induced by these particular circumstances, might be a way through which mood mapping can be realized. It must be clear that there are also psycho-geographic descriptions which do not use this 'troika' of -season, -part of day and -weather. So in those cases another way of visualisation need to be found.

There is often a close link between the state of the weather and  a particular human mood. The daily weather forecast on television, to which we have been habituated over decades, is a clear case of induced psychology on a mass scale and we are often tempted to swap our own specific observations for the canonized versions of our television screens. This is an expression of our ability to visualize on the basis of language and a few iconographic devices what the weather is most probably going to be. We might even be in a good or less good mood because of the weather forecast. Poets, novelists and other expressive writers have sensed this atmospheric sensitivity far before our modern institution of weather forecast existed.. it was and is definitely an important tool in their arsenal

The number of variations of light, patterns, structure, colours and so many more elements we fail to have words for, and simply call 'the sky', is endless, and yet... we like to fit this constant uniqueness into a cyclic structure of re-creation, of sameness. We discard the specific and concentrate on the general, things we recognize from previous experiences.

That is what 'mood-mapping' might be about.

Looking up at the sky to relate to the world below, is an ancient way of comprehending. In an almost contradictory way. The sky seems to be the most ancient surviving element compared  to our ever changing terestial environment.

17/1/2001 tj.

* the sample pictures have been taken from "Four seasons of the clouds"  by YAMADA Keiichi (Hakusuisha; Tokyo; 1999)


xxx = the word 'sky'
xxx = atmospheric words related to the word 'sky'
xxx = smell
xxx = sound

time space quote source
1689 starting from the villa of Sukiyama Sampu, going in the direction of Sumida river (Senju) When I set out on the twenty-seventh of the third month the dawn sky was misty. The early morning moon had lost its light, but the peak of Fuji could faintly be seen. The cherry blossoms on the boughs of Ueno and Yanaka stirred sad thoughts as I wondered when again I might see them. MATSUO Basho (1644-1694); The narrow road to Oku/ Oku no Hoschimichi (1689/1996) [Kodansha International; Tokyo/etc.] - p.23
18?? Ueno Park At the end of Ikenohata Street we joined the crowd filing into Ueno Park like a procession of ants.
Ueno in early April: the cherry-blossoms in all their glory. For this first Sunday of the Exhibition night showers had washed the sky to a clear pale blue; the sun was warm already, the shade of cryptomerias inviting. Caught in a mass of thousands upon thousands of spring revellers, all pushing their way towards the Park, the women with perfumed kimonos and gay ornaments stuck in their hair, we drifted forward in a haze of dust and sweaty breath and jostling faces, themselves as red as any cherry-blossom.
KENJIRO Tokutomi (1868-1927); Footprints in the snow/Omoide no ki (1901/1970) - 
18??-19?? Shimbashi (downtown geisha area) One evening at the end of August, when an alarming drought had caused the watersupply to be suspended for a time, there came a sudden torrential downpour, and the rain continued all night and half of the following day. Then, when it just as suddenly cleared, the season had changed completely. Autumn which had arrived in an instant, made itself clearly felt in the refreshing color of the sky and the leaves of the willows, in the echoing clatter of getain the midnight streets, in the tinkling bells of the jinrikisha, and in the chirping voices of the crickets that began to sound busily from the rubish boxes in the alleys. NAGAI, Kafu (1879-1959):; Geisha in rivalry/Ude-kurabe (1916-1917[1956]/1963) - p.48
18??-19?? Shimbashi (downtown geisha area) The next morning the sky had put on a new brilliance after the rain. From the moist earth and the moss-grown shingled roofs the steam rose in clouds. It was a day of Indian summer, and nanso was planting Chinese narcissus bulbs around the base of the plumb tree and the edges of the garden rocks. NAGAI, Kafu (1879-1959):; Geisha in rivalry/Ude-kurabe (1916-1917[1956]/1963) - p.122
18??-19?? Shimbashi, roof top (?) As she came down, she passed old Gozan on his way up to water his morning glories. A watering can in his hand, he went straight to the roof. The samisens on which geisha had been practicing until but a few moments before had suddenly stopped. Evening in the pleasure quarter: it appeared to be bath time in all the houses, and the breeze, heavy with the smell of coal, turned the drying summer kimonos inside out. The busy hour for telephones had begun. Gozan looked up at the sky, one beautiful expanse of feather clouds. He forgot to count his morning-glory buds, and stood instead gazing at the ravens as they made their way home to the groves of the Beach Palace. NAGAI, Kafu (1879-1959):; Geisha in rivalry/Ude-kurabe (1916-1917[1956]/1963) - in ìKafu the scribblerî; Edward Seidensticker; p.88-89
1824-1825 New Great Bridge (Sumida ?) Her tear-swelled eyes, however, were strained in a fixed gaze, as she leaned against the sash of her upstairs window and followed the boat outward bent. It was still too early for the moon of the last quarter. A grim monstrosity of cloud, heaving beyond the fire tower at the 'New Great bridgeí, outspreading swift and low in its menacing advance, had soon over-run across half the face of the ebony sky; the drapery of black night was lowered over the world of man. Santaís boat, light of movement, had sped on bearing away its torch fire which was soon lost in the depths of the river mists. TANIZAKI Junichiro (1886-1965); A springtime case/Otsuya koroshi (1927) - p.38
1824-1825 restaurant Kawacho, Yanagibashi Then, Santaís prediction began t o prove true. The sky had been completely overcast, before they were aware. The falling off of the winds was soon followed by big drops of rain that came pattering upon the eaves. In no time, it grew into a torrent and began to pour down, as if the sky and the river had been turned into one sheet of water. Whilst their voices were oft deadened amidst the fury that went on with such violence as to make them marvel that their little room was not shaken up, the three men went on with their drinking, for some time yet. There were no signs of slackening in rain. TANIZAKI Junichiro (1886-1965); A springtime case/Otsuya koroshi (1927) - p.44-45
1824-1825 Mkura-bashi/Sanya (?) When, after crossing the Makura-bashi bridge, he had come out along the riverside avenue stretched under the canopy folliage of the cherry grove, a waning moon of copper hue, hollowed out into an arching crescent, hung high overhead, mirrored on the face of the wide stream as if forboding an evil it alone knew. He came to a halt to pause awhile before the sight of the black water moving on its hushed and sluggish course, and now to gaze at the stars arrayed over the open sky. At rare intervals, roofed dingeys carrying belated fares to the Yoshiwara came struggling, now by one and again by twos, and glided their futive way up the deserted watercourse in the direction of the Sanya canal. TANIZAKI Junichiro (1886-1965); A springtime case/Otsuya koroshi (1927) - p.118-119
189? Omote-cho/Bunkyo-ku He sat on the little balcony that ran along the second story and leaned against the wooden railing, watching the skydarken. The sun had already dropped behind the tops of the houses, but the last reflections of its fire lingered on, dyeing the western half of the sky a faint crimson hue. Turning to the east, he saw that it was pale blue, ever so faintly sprinkled with the first stars of the evening. Evening crows chatered noisily as they hurried to their nests, urged on by the dim tolling of the bell of Denzuin. FUTABATEI, Shimei (1864-1909):; The drifting clouds/Ukigumo (1891) [Columbia University Press; New York] - p.223
189? near Tokyo Bay (?) Suddenly the day ended. Darkness gathered on all sides. The last traces of color had disappeared from the sky above. The great ocean of heaven glittered and twinkled with stars. The garden of the neighbouring house, which could be seen until just a moment before, disappeared in the darkness of the night. It was so dark that he could place the trees only by the gentle wind which blew. The walls of the storehousehad become a blotch of greyish whiteness. Wings fluttered close by under the eaves. Looking about him, Bunzo could distinguish nothing; all was darkness. FUTABATEI, Shimei (1864-1909):; The drifting clouds/Ukigumo (1891) [Columbia University Press; New York] - p.223
1895-1898 Musashino plain, village of Shibuya 27 NOVEMBER 'It is clear today and there is no sign of last nightís storm. The sun rose gloriously in the sky and when I stood on the hill at the back of my cottage, I could see the pure whiteness of Fuji towering above its neighbouring peaks. It was truly a morning appropriate to the dawning of winter. The irrigation ditches had overflowed into the fields and the inverted images of the trees reflected from the waterí KUNIKIDA, Doppo (1871-1908); Musashino/Ima no Musashino (1898/1993) [in ìRiver mist and other stories (188?-190/1983) Paul Norbury Publications; Tenterden] - p.100
19?? Soto-Bori moat, looking at Ichigaya-Tamachi (?) As the path along the top of the embankment gradually sloped lower, at each step the night sky seemed to spread out wider overhead. Visible in a single sweep of the eye from Ichigaya tot Ushigome, the scenery along the Moat -the embankment and the trees and shrubberies-was an overall misty green. In the softly flowing night wind, there was the scent of field grass and the grassy-smelling blooms of pasania trees. from the sky above the towering pine trees across the Moat, there came the sudden call of what sounded like a night heron.
ìAhh-somehow itís as if we were in the country.î Kimmie looked up at the sky.
NAGAI, Kafu (1879-1959):; During the rains/Tsuyu no atosaki (1931) - p.28
19?? Tokyo University/Engineering Buildings/Shinji-no-Ike(Sanshiro Pond) The sun, now sinking in the west, illuminated the broad slope at an agle. The windows of the Engineering buildings at the top of the slope were sparkling as if on fire. Pale red flames of burning sun swept back from the horizon into the skyís deep clarity, and their fever seemed to rush down on him. Sanshiro turned left and entered the woods, whose back, like his, lay in half darkness, hald in the streaming rays of the setting sun. He walked beneath a canopy of black-green leaves, the openings between them dyed red. A cicada was crying on the trunk of a large elm tree. Sanshiro came to the edge of the University pond and knelt down.
It was extraordinarily quiet. Not even the noise of streetcars penetrated this far. One street car line was to have run past the Red gate, but the University had protested and it had gone through Koishikawa instead. Kneeling by the pond, Sanshiro recalled this incident that he had read about in the Kyushu papers. Any university that refused to have streetcars near it must be far removed from society.
NATSUME, Soseki (1867-1916):; Sanshiro, a novel/Sanshiro [transalted and with a critical essay by Jay Rubin; University of Tokyo Press] (1907/1977) - p.21
19?? Tokyo University/Shinji-no-Ike(Sanshiro Pond) He stared at the surface of the pond. The reflection of many trees seemed to reach the bottom, and down deeper than the trees, the bluesky. No longer was he thinking of streetcars, or Tokyo, or Japan; a sense of something far-off and remote had come to take their place. The feeling had lasted but a moment, when loneliness began to spread across its surface like a veil of clouds. NATSUME, Soseki (1867-1916):; Sanshiro, a novel/Sanshiro [transalted and with a critical essay by Jay Rubin; University of Tokyo Press] (1907/1977) - p.22
19?? Kyo-bashi hospital (Shinkawa (?)) The fine calm weather had continued for several days, and then a violent south wind had begun to blow. Within hours the streets of Tokyo were covered in dust. Before long everything -sky, houses, trees- looked as though it had been sprinkled with a fine layer of soya flour. The wind was succeeded in trun by a spell of rain, unpleasantly humid and sweaty. On such a sticky morning Yoko set out in a rickskaw, some of her belongings on the seat beside her, for the Kyobashi hospital. ARISHIMA Takeo (1878-1923); A certain woman/Aru onna (1919/1978) - p.361
19?? Morinaga-depato/Sukiyabashi-dori Ambling out to the avenue, Tamae heard a salesman barking hoarsely in front of Morinagaís, mobbed with people. ìYes, here are the Morinaga Velvets you all remember. How about it?î Mixing with the crowd, Tamae lifted a shining cellophane bag and dropped it into her pocket. She felt extremely pleased with herself. At a china store, tamae melted into the crowd and stole a pretty Kutani soy sauce container. More than the fact that no one caught her, the weight in her pocket was gratifying. She felt as if she were walking along wearing a mask. All of the sudden, she was happy to be alive. Her parting from her son made Tamae feel instantly much younger, and as she came to dim Sukiyabashi street, she took a Velvet from the cellophane bag and popped it into her mouth. The sweet melody of a popular song drifted in the air from an advertisement. The Asahi Newspaper electric news raced busily to the right, flashing the dissolution of the Diet in the sky. HAYASHI Fumiko (1904-1951); Narcissus/Suisen (1949/1997) - p.235
1909 Branch House, Gaiheikan, 359 Shinsaka, 1 Morikawacho, Hongo This morning a violent wind was roaring through the sky. The windows on the third floor were all rattling, and a dust like sand from the street below came blowing in the cracks. But in spite of the wind the scattered clouds were motionless. A spring like sunshine was warming the windowpanes. It was the sort of day when you might be sweating if it werenít for the wind. The old man from the lending library came in, whipping his nose with the palm of his hand. ìTerrible wind,î said he. ìStill, the cherry blossom all over Tokyo will be opening today. Wind or no wind, itís fine weather.î 
ìSpring has come at last.î I said, but of course he couldnít understand my feelings. ìEh! Eh! answered the old man, ìSpring, you know, is a loss as far as weíre concerned. Lending books is finished for the season. ()î.
ISHIKAWA, Takuboku (1885-1912); The Romaji diary/romaji nikki (1948-1949/1954/1985) [Charles E. Tuttle; Rutland/Tokyo] - In Modern Japanese literature; 1960; p.211
1909 (Hongo-dori (?) The sky was calm and clear. As usual during the cherry blossom season, the streets seemed lively. Sometimes a gust of wind swept up particles of dust and fluttered the gay kimonos worn by flower-viewing passers-by. ISHIKAWA, Takuboku (1885-1912); The Romaji diary/romaji nikki (1948-1949/1954/1985) [Charles E. Tuttle; Rutland/Tokyo] - p.64 (Tuttle edition)
1909 Tamachi street After I go down the slope and come out on Tamachi Street, thereís a shop on the right hand that sells geta. As I passed in front today a joyous sound suddenly came to me as though it were emerging from some precious memory. Spreading before my mindís eye was a wide field of green grass. A skylark inside a cage suspended from the eaves of the clog shop began chirping. I walked on for a minute or two remembering my dead cousin and Oideno, the place where I used to go hunting with him. ISHIKAWA, Takuboku (1885-1912); The Romaji diary/romaji nikki (1948-1949/1954/1985) [Charles E. Tuttle; Rutland/Tokyo] - p.79 (Tuttle edition)
1912 from Ueno Park over Hongo hill to Koishikawa In silence , we started to walk towards the house in Koishikawa. It was not very cold that day, for there was little wind. It was winter nevertheless, and the park looked bleak. I turned my head once and looked back at the row of cedars. They were brown, and looked as if the frost had eaten all the greenness out of them. Over them stretched the gray sky. The coldness of the scene seemed to bite into my spine. Hurriedly, in the twilight, we walked over Hongo Hill. It was only after we had reached the bottom of the valley and started walking up the hill in Koishikawa that I began to feel warm under my overcoat. NATSUME, Soseki: (1867-1916); Kokoro/Kokoro (1914/1985) [Collection Tj.] - Charles E. Tuttle Company edition; 1985; p.217 
1918 (?) Ueno park The trees in Ueno Park had turned their bright autumn colors, and streams of people were moving along the broad gravel walks, with here and there a parasol floating in their midst. For Fukai, who was used to being indoors all the time, to be out under the blue sky at once raised his spirits. They made straight for the zoo. KUME, Masao (1891-1952); The tiger/Tora (1918) - In Modern Japanese literature; 1960; p.295
1920 Mansei Bridge Station It was late in the afternoon, already past five, but the sky of that spring day was still bright above the Mansei Bridge Station. Willows faintly glowing, cherry trees in bud, yesterday, today....just as Tokyo turned so intently toward the height of spring, coming alive with greens and crimsons and pale mists of lavender, the city was suddenly engulfed in a rain too heavy for the season. The land, the people, even the boats on Kanda river were darkened and drenched with the downpour. It wasnít the crimson plum or the scarlet peach, but the flowering quince that suddenly bloomed, as if dripping with blood, startling those who saw it. IZUMI, Kyoka (1873-1939):; Prostitution duck noodles/Baishoku kamonanban (1920) (translated as 'Osen and Sokichi', 1996) [src010 p.65] - In Three tales of mystery and imagination, Japanese Gothic by Izumi Kyoka (translated and annotated by Charles Shiro Inouye); 1992; p.109
1920 Kanda Myojin temple ground Even now, the sight of the shrine filled him with terror. The rain clouds hovering over the wood seemed like a horrifying mask painted with lines of dreary gray. The roofs of the houses around the temple looked like rows of black teeth biting down on each other. here and there, two or three red brick buildings stood with their tin roofs torn up and sticking into the sky like the bright red gums of a man eating goblin. To those who see only the misty showers of spring, that wood, that grove of trees, must seem like three or four eyebrow brushes standing in a row. But to Sokichi, recalling the time he nearly killed himself, the same trees resembled an untrimmed beard growing wildly into the sky. IZUMI, Kyoka (1873-1939):; Prostitution duck noodles/Baishoku kamonanban (1920) (translated as 'Osen and Sokichi', 1996) [src010 p.65] - 
1923-193? appearance of telephone poles in Tokyo, general scene Vague and slatternly, a sprawling skyline of wooden houses overlooked by a massive procession of telegraph poles that marched -or rather staggered- up its slope, linked together by loose wires in a drooping curve... These telegraph poles, as though consciousness of their superiority, never take the trouble to stand straight. Like street bullies, their hands deep in their pockets, they lurch drunkenly over the cowering shabby roofs and lean at affected angles on strong supports. The old Japan is changing in their shadow; the future belongs to them and all they symbolize. Quennell, Peter (1905-); A superficial journey through Tokyo and Peking (1932) [Faber and Faber; London] - p.54
1923-193? house of Torahiko Terada/any house in such kind of alleys After running around Tokyo all day, it is sometimes late evening when I return home. I walk through along, narrow alley, which is already fast asleep, turn right, and arrive at the wall of my own house. When I look up at the may-sided shapes and angles of the roof, faint against the nightsky, a strange thought occurs to me. Here in this nation of Japan -here in the city of Tokyo- here, in this corner -here in this particular place- in this house, live people who have a particular relationschip to me, and I come here as a m,atter of course. What a coincidence! How long will my family -how long will this house- be here?
Suppose one day I should come home late in the evening, as usual, and find not my house, not my familiy, but a different house; one unknown to me, and inhabited by people unknown to me. And suppose, moreover, that this new house and family gave evry appearance of having been here for years. Couldn't such a thing happen? It would not be at all strange if it did. Thinking such thoughts, I open the gate and enter my own yard, and there, doubts as to the existence of my own house disappear.
TORAHIKO Terada (1878-1935); Persimmon seeds (1917/1933/1988) - p.50-51
1925-192? Asashi area of Shinjuku The world nothing but lies.
The last train bound for Koshu runs across my head
As I stretched my veins across the futon of the cheap rooming house.
I abandon my existence, lonely as the rooftop entertainment of a department store.
I try embracing my own corpse shattered by the train
Pretending it was another man.
At midnight, opening the shoji dark with soot,
Even here I find a playful moon and sky.

Good-bye everyone!
I returned to being a warped die
where in the attic of the cheap rooming house.
Blown about by the wind
I grasp the layered loneliness of the journey.

HAYASHI Fumiko (1904-1951); Diary of a vagabond/Horoki/{Journal de vagabondage} (1928-1930/1997) - in ìBe a woman, Hayashi Fumiko and modern Japanese womenís literatureî by Joan E. Ericsonp.131
193? Tamanoi Station/Azuma Bridge Tamanoi Station was overgrown with weeds. It looked very much like a ruined castle.
I climbed through the summer grass to the embankment, from which I had a clear view down over the road I had just taken, over the vacant lots and the newly build houses. The other side of the embankment was a jumble of tin-roofed huts, quiet without order, stretching on interminably. The chimney of a public bathhouse rose from the jumble, and its tip was a half moon. Although the flush of evening still lay across the sky opposite, the moon had taken on the color of night. Among the tin roofs, neon lamps were shining. I could hear radios.
NAGAI Kafu (1879-1959); A strange tale from East of the river (1937/1977) [Charles E. Tuttle Company; Tokyo] - p.116
193? Taisho Avenue area ìItís getting a little cooler. A very fine breeze indeed.î
The street immediately below was blocked off by the awning, but one could see, for a surprising distance, the second floors across the canal, the faces of the women in the windows, people coming and going. The sky above the roofs was heavy and leaden, starless, lighted a faint red halfway from the horizon by neon lamps on the main street. It made the hot night seem even hotter. O-yuki laid a cushion on the window sill and sat down. She looked at the sky for a time, and reached for my hand.
NAGAI Kafu (1879-1959); A strange tale from East of the river (1937/1977) [Charles E. Tuttle Company; Tokyo] - p.135
1945 Tokyo station As I stood in the roofless corridor of Tokyo Station, the air was still but chilly. The light overcoat I was wearing was just warm enough. My two friends having taken the Ueno train which had come in first, I was waiting alone for the Shinagawa train.
From a thinly clouded sky, a gray moon shone weakly upon the fire ruins of Nihinbashi. Perhaps ten days old, the moon was low and somewhat close at hand. Although it was only eightthirty, there were not many people about. The wide, deserfted corridor seemed all the wider for its emptiness.
The headlights of the train appeared from a distance.
SHIGA Naoya (1883-1971); A gray moon [in ìA late chrysanthemum, twenty-one stories from the Japanese] - p.13
196? elevated railway track, non specific Bird was left alone in the rain. A ticklish sense of comedy rose into his throat, and for a minute he laughed silently. There was blood on his jacket, but if he walked in the rain for a while, no one would be able to tell it from water. Bird felt a kind of preliminary peace. Naturally, his chin hurt where the punch had landed, and his arms and back ached, so did his eyes. But he was in high spirits for the first time since his wifeís labor had begun. Bird limped down the alley between the embankment and the factory lot. Soon an old-fashioned steam engine spewing fiery cinders came chugging down the track. Passing over Birdís head, the train was a colossal rhinoceros galloping across an inky sky. OE, Kenzaburo (1935-):; A personal matter/Kojinteki na taiken (1964) - In A personal matter; Grove Press; 1968; p.17
196? department store in Komaba A tall wire fence had been stretched around the edge of the roof to prevent accidents. On this side of the fence were several telescopes that provided a brief view of the the city when a 10-yen coin was inserted, and the children brought here by their parents had clustered around them. You were standing by yourself between the telescopes and the fence, looking out at the darkening city. A large bank of leaden clouds spread out over the city, and only one slice of sky to the west glimmered a milky white, spilling a few beams of faint, forlorn sunlight. It was an utterly commonplace evening sky for Tokyo, and viewed from my angle your body appeared somewhat shorter than the buildings and apartment houses in the distance. Maybe it was due to the smog, but the lights that had been turned on in some of the windows of the buildings shone with a strange blur, and pieces of underwear and bedding were hanging out to dry outside the apartments. You no longer wore the black cassock and Roman collar of a Catholic clergyman. ENDO Shusaku (1923-); Shadows/Kageboshi (1968/1993) [in ìThe final martyrs, stories by Shusaku Endoî (1993) Peter Owen; London] - p.55
198? Koishikawa/Keisho-ji/Botanical Garden (?) "How do you get to the subway station from here?" he finally stopped a passerby.
ìThe shortcut is to turn at the mailbox ahead and make your way behind the botanical garden. Itís a deserted road, but safe enough for a man.î
The faint light that had remained in the sky until then had now completely disappeared, and the autumn night was sinking into total darkness. He made the turn at the mailbox, and suddenly his heart began to pounf violently. A woman was walking in the darkness a short distance away. It was along the lane directly behind the botanical garden. The broadleaved trees spread out their branches high above the lane. Blighted leaves-one, two, three-fluttered down. The leaves were red and brown and green, the same three colors as the tea cakes of a distant time.
That was not all. The woman was wearing a rikyu gray kimono. her obi, the virbrant color of a ripe persimmon, seemed to shine. Unhurriedly, she wove down the leaf-strewn lane, gradually gaining distance. Kiichi quickened his pace. The black road was like a hazy circuit that brought back the old memories in his mind.
ATODA, Takashi (1935-); The square persimmon and other stories (19../1991) - In ìThe square persimmonî; p.205