The haziness of a summer morning I found myself strangely pulled to a sidewalk patch of weeds. Someone, or something, had come along and tied the weeds into little standing bundles. It seemed to be reminiscent of something that would have been done in the rice fields of the deep country, but this is not were I was. I was smack in the middle of the suburbs of Shin Urayasu.
There were probably more than a half dozen of these tied bundles lined up on a piece of earth lining a sidewalk. I was intrigued. Why was this done? Is it a frustrated artist’s attempt at an environmental work? Is it the work of a unhinged adult who misses working in the fields of his/her youth? Do I dare? Do I dare to say it must be the work of aliens? I really don’t know.
To have gone from the heights of the tower of Babylon to the lowlands of weed tying. It is just another day of striving to understand my world, and my place in it.