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NO 3

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Welcome.

Have you accidentally looked into the sun or bright light, and then looked away, the image burned into your eyelids? That’s an afterimage. Here’s what’s stayed with me from what I've seen/heard/sensed this past week, and how I connect to it.

Thanks to everyone new for joining us here! In the last installment of Afterimage, I shared some thoughts on Light as Perfume, whether How We Write Changes What We Write, and Comet sightings.

This postcard is an experiment in writing publicly. Part of that means figuring out the process as I go. The first two issues were much longer than I planned. This issue is an experiment in using word count and time constraints as a creative or design challenge. One hour to write, and less than 1000 words.

A word before we start- there’s a lot of food mentioned on the postcard today, so if you’re observing Ramadan, I invite you to hold off reading until you break your fast this evening.
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I hope this can be a start of a conversation. Let’s go!

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Tasted: Cravings

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When I want something, there’s nothing to hold me back. A late-night urge for very dark chocolate struck. So I made some.

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As I was melting the coconut oil, I thought of a craving from another time. Tangy, rustic, country bread, the pain de campagne.

Levain is located down the hill from my daughter’s old crèche, in the Yoyogi district of Tokyo, near the big park. The owner and master baker left Japan in the ’70s to apprentice with Poilane himself before setting up shop in Tokyo. The bakery was my daily indulgence for two years.

When I moved to Kyoto, I was shocked to find an abundance of authentic French boulangeries making impeccable croissants. Pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins, chaussons aux pommes. Who knew the ancient capital of Japan was home to the best croissants? They were more-Catholic-than-the-Pope kind of pastries that took imitation to the highest level, sometimes surpassing the original. The croissants in my neighborhood were so close to the real thing, I was never homesick for those that sat waiting for me at our corner bakery on the rue des Martyrs in Paris, where my in-laws used to live. Despite this abundance of croissants, there was no trace of hearty and rustic pain de campagne in all of Kyoto. None.

Knowing it wasn’t available in any part of the city put me in a mild state of withdrawal. A single or childless version of myself would have hopped on the shinkansen bullet train or planned monthly trips to Tokyo for bread and a visit with friends. But I was neither, so my dire craving for the perfect loaf set out to make a good-enough version of it.

Every year I conquer at least one fear. I decided that year, 2013, was the year I would get over my fear of fermentation. I love eating fermented foods. Cheese, wine, yogurt, natto, kimchi. But I couldn’t reconcile my fascination with its transformative powers and the mild sense of fear-disgust I felt around growing blobs of dough. They reminded me of strange B movies from vintage America, like, well. The Blob.

I decided to focus on the potential of beautiful loaves on demand. I bought Rose Berenbaum’s Bread Bible, made my starter, and got to experience everything home bakers got to experience during the pandemic. My cravings were satisfied.

The craving for campagne helped me to see fermentation in a new way and to experiment. Eventually, I came to find poofy dough endearing and developed my go-to-loaf. I’d moved on from campagne to a no-knead loaf: a tangy cherry cashew loaf I adapted from Rose’s Bread in Under Two-Minutes. I’d soak a loose fist of dry cherries and make the dough rise with Belgian cherry beer. Any sandwich made with it reminded me of the day after Thanksgiving. I loved that loaf.

I’m craving it now.

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Seen: In Bloom

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When I move houses, I give myself time to buy furniture. Months, and sometimes years. Instead, I buy flowers. A lot of them. I usually start with some rubber plants, a monstera, some succulents, and orchids.

The orchids I bought died. I hadn’t figured out life in the land of sub-zero temperatures. I couldn’t throw them away. I didn’t want to give them a burial in the back of the house, afraid they’d come back from the dead and stalk me.

In preparation for travel, I packed the plants to bring over to my neighbors’ house. My neighbor volunteered her housemate to care for them. “We call her Doctor Green. Every plant that stays here always leaves looking better than when it arrived!” She told me a secret. “She talks to the plants and grooms them. You know, like how monkeys groom each other?” I decided to bring the orchids with me.

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When I came back for my plants three weeks later, I saw one of the orchids had a large bulbous bud bobbing, like an earring. A few days later at home, it burst into flower. Seeing the orchid in bloom, I felt a familiar warmth wash over me. My body softened and my eyes burned.

I knew that feeling. I was that orchid. I feel good most of the time. I remember, though, times I was in desperate need of care. For someone to believe in me. And for someone to keep believing I’ll make it through. I knew I would. I just needed someone else to believe it, too.

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Connecting to: Peaks on the Horizon

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The faraway mountain peaks, still white and pristine. They remind me it wasn’t so long ago the four-lane road I’m driving on was limited to two, with seven-plus feet of dirt-colored snow piled up on the outside lanes. I looked for Tenzin Choegyal's Snow Lion on my phone and let it come through the speakers. I wanted to be close to the peaks.

The Snow Lion is a significant mythical creature in Tibetan iconography, symbolizing the snowy white mountains of Tibet. In a YouTube video, Tenzin asks his fellow musicians accompanying him to keep in mind the elegance of the Snow Lion as they play. I listen and feel its strength and beauty, my body remembering being filled with awe by the mountain ranges I have yet to see.

A question for you: What’s something you've noticed yourself connecting to, this week? What is it leading you toward?

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Your thoughts fuel mine.

Tell me what you're thinking about. Dreaming about. And what exactly you're doing about the thing you've been dreaming about.

Capture some images. Savor afterimages.

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Have a great weekend.

Akiko

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Thanks for reading.

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