1996/2/24b Anzai Toshihiro Lens Shop
The sun is setting. I return the school key and walk along thinking about quitting school. The road is wide, on a slight decline, leading from the top of a hill. In the middle is a narrow wooden building, not more than 30 centimeters wide, like a river islet. It is a lens shop. I peek inside and see a middle-aged man working in the light of a naked bulb. The glass door is like the lid of a specimen case. From left to right, unground glass, partially ground pieces, lenses large and small, of all kinds, are packed into the place. On a small, light sepia-toned lens smeared with oil, a letterform of sorts is written.
If a car gets grazed it buckles without resistance. I was thinking this as I looked at the building and at the sky grow dark.
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