mukaebi
Obon. A lot of old Tokyo neighbourhoods do it in July, but Hoshino-san is from Niigata, so she does it in August, like most of Japan. The dead come home for three days, and you light a small fire at the door so they can find the way. Mukaebi, the welcoming fire.
At dusk she put a clay dish outside 101 and burned a few sticks of ogara, dried hemp reed, white and very light. It caught fast and smelled like a field. She put her hands together for her husband.
Then she gave me four sticks without saying anything.
I burned them at the bottom of the metal stairs, in an ashtray from the 100-yen shop. She didn't ask who for. I didn't really decide.
The office is closed for the rest of the week. My mother wanted me in Numazu. I said work. She said, "Your work is a laptop." She isn't wrong.
Other news: a man came on August 2 and replaced the button unit outside my door. Tuan flew home to Hanoi on Saturday for three weeks. 102 is still empty.
The log has been quiet since July 6.