For the last 22 years I have lived in the same semi-suburban apartment in Tokyo. I moved here in 1985, but I actually first came here my first night in Tokyo, when it was the home of a friend. The view from the only window is the first glimpse of Japan I had by daylight. It has been a constant of all the years since, and a relief from the dim cramped space that I live in.
The elegant roofs of the house across the narrow street were always a pleasure to contemplate. Their broad embrace plus the generous surrounding garden gave me openness and light, even after they built the Starbucks on the corner. The crowning glory of the view was, when the air was clear enough, the tip of Mt. Fuji. Fuji, which served as my rock and reassurance amidst the encroaching tsunami of new houses and apartments, posts and wires. The lower part of the mountain was steadily eroded by 'progress', but top of its white cone can still be seen some days. This last morsel of the mountain is about to slip beneath the waves of concrete, within a few weeks.
To see photos of my disappearing view and what is happening now, please click the link for my new page of "Tokyo Magazine" , where I will be posting photo essays on the megalogpolis.
