It may be London that William Gibson referred to as mirror-world in Pattern Recognition, but I suspect he knows full well that the real mirror-world is Japan, ever mesmerizing and alien beneath its superficial normalty. Case in point: strawberries. Elsewhere, perfectly red, shiny, ersatz, store-bought strawberries will invariably taste like water, while tiny, wild strawberries will taste like early summer. In Japan, perfectly red, shiny, ersatz, store-bought strawberries will invariably taste like early summer, while tiny, wild strawberries taste like strawberry-shaped voids in the fabric of the undergrowth. I spit them out, and I am perplexed, and I know now that my soul can’t keep up with my steps, and is left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, and maybe longer, like lost luggage.
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These Walking Dreams is a visual field diary of a 4,300-kilometer walk from one end of Japan to the other, in the spring and summer of 2017.