I live beside this. Thankfully, I don’t have to look at it from my window, but it and the two residential towers in front of it, one of which I am living in definitely lay impressive shadows below. I was told that there are two reasons why the Quebec government chooses to lodge their artists in this area, the first being, an idea of physical safety and the second being the presence of all the foreign embassies, bringing a cultural diversity to the area  and with that more English and easier communication. Otherwise, the presence of artists -nul , unless you consider Louis Vuitton an artist.

Yesterday, my insides felt uneasy and heavy, but at the same time, my whole being felt light, unmoored, as if I would float away like a small leaf if the wind blew.  The contrasting sensations were making me wobbly.  Was it all the looking up, or the weaving between people, or the many subway trains we took? Is it living on the 20th floor, or looking for Mount Fuji every day from the 43rd floor? Or was it nervousness about being here, or was it just plain jet-lag, or some left-over flu that never really manifested itself? I don’t know why, but for several days, I experienced a combination of nausea and vertigo. Perhaps  it was a somatic reaction to a feeling of smallness in such immensity. An immensity of buildings, most of which are tall and wide and spread as far as the eye can see and are filled with some 35 million people – the entire population of Canada, just in the greater Tokyo area!

At the exact moment I began to articulate my wobbliness, I remembered why I am here – I have a project. It will keep me focused.

And, I’ll keep my eyes to the small beauty everywhere on the ground.

I love the tiny gardens flourishing in pots on front doorsteps.

A Tokyo firetruck.

The smallest creamer, the biggest cup handle and a very good cup of coffee.

A persimmon tree grows on a tiny street near our building.