12th Sep 2009

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    1. My Novel Unforgettable' 6/44 Mitsushiro Nakagawa All Translated by Yumi Ikeda . Kei's room was on a small hill where you could look down over Shinjyuku. A signboard of the food company was still put inclined on the entrance of Kei’s room which had remodeled an old warehouse, and the iron plate was rust-colored in parts. Kei repainted the building all white with his father's mediation. The building had been used as the warehouse of a family restaurant, the subsidiary of the company his father was working for. Therefore, it was almost like a shelf, not the kitchen and there were just one naked gas stove, a small kettle, and a cheap frying-pan made in France. There was no bathtub in a shower room, and a simple washroom and a lavatory were installed. Kaori came to the room dubiously seeing the building, and kissed Kei lightly when the door closed. After that, she stepped and entered the back of the room at once. Kaori told Kei to turn on the light, laughing in the high voice as an old board creaked. The room with the full light echoed with Kaori’s alluring voice. As it was a warehouse, the ceiling is far higher and wider than that in a standard apartment. In the left side of the room, there is a white bed which Kei painted and a wooden white desk picked up at the garbage space. All these looked small in the spacious room. The full wall on the right side was buried to a ceiling with record racks. The wall of several thousand records looked down at Kaori. Kaori approached slowly and traced it putting up her index finger. Every time they walked, the flooring creaked and made a small sound. "How many you‘ve got?" "Don’t know.” Kei went to the kitchen at the corner of the room through the living room, and poured water into a kettle and put it on the stove. "Can I pull out one piece?” "Be sure to give it back.” It was “Blue” by Joni Mitchell that Kaori pulled out. It is an album Kei hated. Kaori turned the jacket over, and ran her eyes over English letters on it for a while. Then she pulled out the record from the back. Kei’s sketch made a light sound at the same time and fell down. It was a small scrap of a memo pad covered with dust for a long time on his father's desk. "Your sketch?" Kei nodded pouring the hot water into a cup. Kaori took a sip of coffee passed by Kei and put the cup on a small table at the center. Then she came near to the record rack again and pulled out politely one by one, and displayed every piece on the floor. Kaori asked Kei arranging them. "There are sketches in these?" "Maybe." "All of them? ? Kaori stopped arranging them and turned around to Kei. Kei nodded, putting his mouth to the lip of the cup. "Can I look at the sketches?” "I f I say “No”, you would stop?” Kaori put her heels at the wall and said, dropping her shoulders. Her small feet which are contrary to her height looked sweet to Kei. "Why do you always fly at me?” "Be sure to get them back." ? Kaori politely pulled out the sketches from the records laid out in the endmost line at the window, pointing the lips, and put them on the jackets. Kaori returned to the center of the room, repeating the action, and looked at the spread sketches slowly. The sketches were copies of the jackets. Some of them were on scraps of a notebook, the back of a leaflet, and the one drown on a scrap of a direct mail that came to his parents’ place. Though the qualities, the color, the size of paper varied, they were well-balanced with his light touch of pencil. When viewed from a distance, they looked a huge work which could be displayed casually at the entrance of a gallery where young people often visit. Kaori undid the knees she hold on the floor, and leaked the voice of admiration. She took a cup in both hands. “Wow! That’s great! But, it seems to go beyond just a copy of the jacket.” “Actually a music jacket is made by a designer. That means artist's intention does not exist. So, if I revise the album as the record jacket, I would draw in that way. I just wanted to show how I draw. Lights go through a window pane and shone on the room. John Lennon is facing the piano in a poster with a paper tape peeled off. Kei was enchanted by his singing posture in a monochrome. Kei was gazing the poster for a while, and his knee suddenly got warm. He felt Kaori's right hand. She dropped words, looking at the spread jackets dimly without seeing Kei. “But.....Why?” Kei watched Kaori whose voice sounded heavy. A light shadow fell on her cheek. "All pictures of women in the jackets are their profiles.” The following update. The end of November, 2009. Schedule.

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