The Quiet Streets of Kanazawa

Kanazawa wakes up slowly. At six in the morning the streets of Higashi Chaya are empty except for a man sweeping the stones in front of a teahouse and a cat that has clearly seen too many tourists to care.

Four mornings

I walked the same route every morning for four days: down past the river, through the old geisha district, up into the temple quarter where the moss is greener than seems possible.

Some cities you see. Others you overhear.

Things I wrote down

• The sound of wooden sandals on wet stone.

• A shop that sells only brushes.

• Gold leaf so thin it moves when you breathe.

On the last morning the man sweeping the stones nodded at me. I like to think it meant I had walked slowly enough to be noticed.