A
man in a white half-jacket ran barreling down the street and ducked
into an oden shop, hollering “It’s gonna pour!” as he pushed
back the curtain. A secondlater
the aproned women and people passing in the streets fell into an
uproar rushing into shops and under cover. I had only a moment to
wonder what the fuss was about before a sudden wind blew heavily down
the street, carrying signs and fabrics with it. There was a sudden,
great cacophony of things crashing to the ground. All the papers and
garbage of the town were swept up in the sudden gust and rushed down
the street like a monster. Shortly after came a sharp flash of
lightning, a strobe in the distance, then the soft, rolling thunder
came, and finally the heavy, large drops of rain. It had been so
clear all day, only to change in an instant.
A
habit has come to me over the years. I never leave the house without
an umbrella.
No matter how clear the sky may have looked when I stepped from my
house, it was the rainy season and so, in keeping with my custom, I
was carrying both an umbrella and a handkerchief that day. I was not
surprised by the sudden downpour. I simply opened my umbrella and
looked out at the sky and town from under its lip. I was making my
way down the street, among the crashing globes of rain, when
suddenly, from behind me, “Good sir! Won’t you let me under
there?” A woman, her neck powdered pure white, thrust her head
under my umbrella. The scent of oil made clear that her high,
Japanese-styled chignon had been freshly dressed. It was decorated
with thin cords of silver. I recalled passing a hairdresser’s shop,
its glass doors had stood open.
The
wind howled and brought sheets of rain down the street. There was
something pitifully tragic about the thin silver cord coming loose
from her neatly tied bun, so I held out my umbrella to her and said,
“Go on—I’m in a suit so it doesn’t matter if I get wet.”
In
truth, I was embarrassed to be seen sharing an umbrella with her
there, in the light of the shops for all to see.
“Oh?
Thank you! It’s just over there,” she said taking the handle of
the umbrella. She rolled up the bottom of her robe and sleeves from
the pooling puddles of rain.
Something strange across the river, Nagai Kafu 1937
(μτφρ. G. Anderson για τις εκδόσεις One Piece Books, 2013)
