rice

the singing rice fields

Already a year has past since I in front of an open window enjoyed the rice frogs sining in the rice fields for the first time. And this year I have so come to love these fields – they feel like home. From the window I have been following them going from brown patches of dirt […]

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the remaining rice fields

It is Saturday evening and I am sitting on the floor just behind a mosquito net in front of an open veranda door. My wife and son are sleeping and I have just finished the dishes, having cleaned the bathroom after a long bath. It is dark ouside, although I can discern a faint glow

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happy birthday

One year ago I was sitting on a bench in an empty car park outside a big children’s hospital in Tokyo waiting for news about my wife and our yet to be born baby. Today I am sitting in a beautiful house in Fukuoka with a sleeping wife and one year old son in front

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talking home appliances

Before moving to Japan, one thing that fascinated me is what I call talking home appliances. When visiting Japan I could hear baking machines speak, bath water control panels sing, rice cookers play songs. I thought it cute and dreamy and fancied living in a home where I was surrounded by those friendly machines instead

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on habits

When does something become a habit? After one time? Hardly. Two times? Three? Five or ten? Does it even matter? Not really I think – it is all about feelings. So when I feel like it has become a habit to every night prepare the rice for the morning. And then in the morning make

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never more

Never more. Today was a nevermore-day, a day I only want to forget. And at the same time a day I really need to remember. Nevermore-days I have reluctantly come to find, are the steppingstones towards a future where I am trying to renew myself, to become a hopefully better version of the human I

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on rinsing rice

There is something very meditative in the process of rinsing rice; it is like time slows down, just me and the bowl, experiencing the cold water between my fingers, letting the rice rattle around, feeling the grains touching my skin. And repeating the process, rinse wash rinse – there is something very meditative about rinsing

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