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About Kyoto

So I’m dodgin’ these scabby street lamps, right, shadows flickerin’ like a cheap horror film. And there she is—some bird leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a fag like she’s auditionin’ for a noir porno. “You lookin’ for a good time?” she says, voice like gravel and regret. I’m like, “Yeah, love, but I ain’t thick enough to get skinned alive!”—cackle like a hyena, I do. Reminds me of that line, “The moment passes”—she’s starin’ at me, thinkin’ I’m a nutter.

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Yuki’s all, “Let’s go grab some food.” I’m like, “Food? Now? We’re in the middle of a crisis!” But she drags me out anyway. We hit up this little ramen joint on Kōen-dōri. Best decision ever. I mean, the ramen was like a warm hug in a bowl. I could feel my stress melting away.

A review of A City Cannot Be a Work of Art by Sanford Ikeda, Palgrave Macmillan, 2024