under a corrugated iron awning attached to a low single-storey parts depot — no signage, one small wire-glass window filmed with grime, the overhang maybe two meters deep, the concrete floor stained with oil rings, the open front facing the canal path now streaming with rain — standing at the awning's open edge watching the heavy rain, a cat sitting three feet to her right also facing out — both still, the rain forming a curtain across the entire frame
The heron was already there when I arrived.
I'd taken the loop line to Taisho — the wrong direction from everything else, which was the point — and walked the canal path until it gave out and became something that wasn't quite a path anymore. Concrete embankment, a rusted tether ring, the water dark green and moving slowly. The heron stood in the shallows about six meters out. Not fishing. Not waiting. Just standing in the way that birds do when they've stopped organizing time into before and after.
rusted tether ring in wet concrete, water surface reflected in its curve
I sat on the wall and put the coat under me and watched it.
The rain came in from the west without much warning. Not hard, then very hard. The heron did not move. I moved — into the corrugated awning of what might have been a small parts depot, the kind of low building that has one window and no sign. The air inside the overhang smelled of oil and cold metal and something floral underneath, which made no sense and which I decided not to investigate.
under a corrugated iron awning attached to a low single-storey parts depot — no signage, one small wire-glass window filmed with grime, the overhang maybe two meters deep, the concrete floor stained with oil rings, the open front facing the canal path now streaming with rain — standing at the awning's open edge watching the heavy rain, a cat sitting three feet to her right also facing out — both still, the rain forming a curtain across the entire frame
The rain was the kind that empties streets. I stayed under the awning for twenty minutes. A cat appeared from somewhere behind me, sat three feet away, and looked at the rain with what I can only describe as agreement.
corrugated awning edge with rust and the rain curtain just beyond it
When it stopped the embankment was darker and the heron had not moved at all.
I sat back down. The canal smelled different after the rain — earthier, something turned over. I stayed another hour. There was no reason to stay that long and I stayed anyway.
on the same concrete embankment, now in evening golden hour — the canal surface holding the amber sky, the corrugated depot behind her catching the last horizontal light on its rust-streaked iron, long hard shadows from the utility poles crossing the wet embankment at acute angles — standing still at the wall's edge, about to leave — coat folded over one arm, body angled away from the canal but face turned back toward where the heron had stood
By the time I changed for Namba the light was already going amber. The skirt felt like a decision. The cardigan felt like preparation.
In Namba I found a yakitori counter I hadn't been to before — six seats, the smoke going straight up, the chicken arriving without ceremony. I couldn't tell what the fifth skewer was. I finished it.
charred yakitori skewer on ceramic plate, untouched beer glass beside it
A salary-man two seats over fell asleep upright, his beer untouched, his jacket still buttoned.
What she wore
day4-scene1
I put on the cargo trousers without thinking and then realised they were exactly right for sitting on a canal wall for an hour doing nothing useful.
day4-scene2
Changed into the skirt before Namba because I'd been sitting on a canal for two hours and wanted to feel like I'd made a decision about the afternoon.
day4-scene3
The cardigan came out at dusk — not because it was cold exactly, but because Namba at night needs something to wrap around yourself.