Throw away your books rally in the streets, because here comes the spring.

The place is completely surrounded with barbed wire fences since many ruin-manics try to get in so often.

This building was used to be the stands for horse-racing back in 1930s.

The Koishikawa botanical garden.

Greenhouse/solarium

a short season for cherry trees in full blossom.

new home

staying up late, rambling on and on,  just as we used to do in collage. 
when dawn crept over the horizon and finally began to color the sky,
we, all of sudden, find ourselves in the middle of twenties.

    

 

   

Oiso

Shigitatsu-an. 

Flowers of Ume had already blossomed. 

sea. anyone hardly seen but a few fishers even it was middle of 3 days weekend.

A renowned Japanese man of letters, Toson Fujimura, used to live here.

 　
"先生がこの世の最後の言葉は、
「涼しい風だねぇ」ということで終わった。
そのときの私はそばにいたわけではないから、
これは婦人からのまた聞きだが、
八月の暑さがしのぎよいのは海から吹いてくる風のせいだ。
先生の家は三部屋しかない家だった。
茶の間は八畳で、そこから庭に面して一段低く間廊下があり、
すだれの陰には椅子と藤製の小さな卓子が、いつも用意してあった。"
(菊池重三郎　『土用波と浜のさざれ石-大磯』より)

I am not too confident to translate the subtleness 
of this little beautiful anecdotes of a writer in Meiji era into English,
but anyone, who sits in the porch of this small hut of tranquility in Oiso, 
only several hours away by train from hasty Tokyo,
will see what it means.
I wish I could live here. 

Tokyo blanketed in snow.

 
    Staring at the window with amazement,
    by this unusual event once in a while,
    which always brings us some strange excitement,
    like in a blink of an eye,
    it metamorphosed the sight of our accustomed town.