Nami has gone. Chigusa is dead as well. Baraso has disappeared, and Kenzo with it. Kenzo used to say with a distorted face, "I'm not Jimi Hendrix. I don't play guitar. I quit 'cos it doesn't pay." So what happened? Cabbage patches? Apartment blocks?

I had a dream. A large entertainment district vanished, just so. Gone were that nice little cafe with pictures of roses on the wall, and gone was that smoky bar with a scary-looking but gentle old lady behind the counter. There’s a dry blast going on in the city that keeps erasing shops one after another. The population here is growing thinner, and all those grey office workers who used to come don't show up anymore. King Ghidorah is swallowing entire blocks, leaving behind what looks like a city after an earthquake. A biwa player plays his song — he’s the only person in the deserted town. Now what kind of scenery is THAT?

They say that people are coming again these days, so I go and see for myself. It’s doesn't look much different at first, but upon closer inspection I spot cabbages growing in empty lots, and carrots and tomatoes as well. Moving closer I can hear them debating. "This is an independent nation!" "We have to clean up the city first" "Why not have all those bars and cafes back?" "How nice would it be if we had galleries and bakeries crowded with girls…" "That’s silly! Penthouses all over the place I say! Aoyama, Roppongi, Daikanyama!" The chief Nogera* looks distressed, and parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme put heads together: how can we reconcile all these different interests?!?

This gradually attracts people, and what started as humming backstairs gossip turns into a major buzz. The chemical reaction accelerates, and in less than no time there are vegetable stalls, restaurants cooking with local grocery, stylish used furniture shops and boutiques rubbing shoulders. Young artists squat vacant buildings, and reanimated by all the sudden energy the old bars return one after another. The aged office workers now bring along girls, and although everything seems to be done on rather low budgets, it has the pleasant effect of lighting and warming up the city. It’s like it used to be, yet it’s not the same.

There has to be more sincerity. If something starts to break, smash it to pieces. If something lies abandoned, kick it deeper into the ditch. The structure of disappearing, a decent guerilla, the power to overthrow. Lay out goods, sell them, lay out again, then sell again. That’s the rhythm and speed of the everyday. Even if you're organized, follow the rules, and clean up and put things back into place everyday, there’s always something that doesn't seem to fit and keeps sticking out. That’s about the picture of Yokohama that appeared in my dream.

*Nogera:
a basically body- and formless, philosophical something that balances on the edge between the old and the new, the real and the imaginary, the positive and the negative, the concrete and the abstract like a cat on a rooftop whenever new things happen in old places.