Author: Hengtee Lim

My friend Hiroki fell in love with a girl who painted. He said they met at a bar somewhere in Shinjuku. A quiet basement place run by an old guy who liked jazz and drank whiskey. Hiroki said her watercolor paintings expressed a feeling he didn’t have words for. Something like a blend of nostalgia, tragedy, and hope, as portrayed by gentle, flowing arcs of color. He said she painted pictures like nothing he’d ever seen. Her name was Toshiko. Hiroki met Toshiko by chance, after accidentally falling down the stairs that led to the bar. He pushed open the…

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