An offering of love.
I was wandering the streets of Tokyo, having just arrived that morning from New Delhi. I was hungry, and tired, but in love with the sunshine and the crowded sidewalks. I knew I wanted a beer, and I knew I wanted to find a quiet place in which to sit and gather my bearings. I saw in the distance a sign on the second level of a small building. On the sign was a pig. I steered toward the pig and walked up a flight of stairs and into a small restaurant whose walls were covered with advertisements for beverages and films. I took a seat at a table near the wall, and was happy to see the stovetop in the middle of the table. I speak no Japanese. The woman in this photograph speaks no English. That was no obstacle. Not at all.
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