Woman From Tokyo.
Once, years ago on the London tube… just after I had convinced myself that I’d seen Robert de Nero reading the billboards on the platform at Sloane Square… a Japanese woman embarked and sat across from me. She took out a Nabokov book and started to read. I think it was Terra Incognita. I had never seen someone so self-possesed nor anyone quite as beautiful.
She wore a knitted beret, grey. Pink eyeshadow, pale lips. A dress, black. Stockings, indigo blue. Boots with fur trim, acid orange.
