Blood.
It flushes through the body, revitalizing, fuelling, regulating, transporting. Rushing along thin-walled passages to fulfill the needs of the body, protected only by layers of delicate tissue.
“Take the next left.” The old woman nodded nearly imperceptibly at the turn that would take them off the wide boulevard and down a dimly lit side street.
The cabbie glanced at her in the mirror and then at the meter.
This was originally written in 2003, after I spent over a year in Japan. My apologies if the information is outdated or culturally insensitive. I was in my early 20s at the time and this piece is meant to be light hearted and warm. Japan holds a special place in my heart …
Toilets were not the first thing that came to my mind when I planned my trip to Japan. But I would soon learn that broadening my horizons would include re-learning how to pee.
In Tokyo the pressing issue is so complex that how-to posters are posted at the airport to instruct confused tourists and other uninitiated.
More than one terrified traveller has attempted avoidance instead of voiding.
I’m running through the woods, lost in the forest around me. My sister is counting, “Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten — ready or not — Here. I. Come!” Her footsteps are crashing, but she’s not close enough to see me. I press myself down onto the ground, flattening the previously untouched grass around me. It’s tall and thick enough to enclose me back into its cocoon.
