Category Archives: social criticism

Then not now

I am not fond of the past, well at least how most seem to keep it alive or let it control them, or at least how easily it is forgotten by most. When? It is all the same, we just

Then not now

I am not fond of the past, well at least how most seem to keep it alive or let it control them, or at least how easily it is forgotten by most. When? It is all the same, we just

Perhaps an end to the commute

Even though there was a seat available next to me when she got on the train, she chose to stand until we reached Nara, about 30 minutes away. The benefit of not being Japanese in Japan, sad though it is,

Perhaps an end to the commute

Even though there was a seat available next to me when she got on the train, she chose to stand until we reached Nara, about 30 minutes away. The benefit of not being Japanese in Japan, sad though it is,

The train ride will never end

Was there ever a time that strangers talked to each other while on the train, or did they just sit in awkward silence until they reached their stop? I was not one to talk, but neither am I one to

The train ride will never end

Was there ever a time that strangers talked to each other while on the train, or did they just sit in awkward silence until they reached their stop? I was not one to talk, but neither am I one to

Nature

What will become of us now that we have abandoned nature?

Nature

What will become of us now that we have abandoned nature?

Just a thought

It is as though I am destined to live a life devoid of any fantastical happenings. But then again, perhaps I have only myself to blame for accepting the mundane as only that.

Just a thought

It is as though I am destined to live a life devoid of any fantastical happenings. But then again, perhaps I have only myself to blame for accepting the mundane as only that.

What an artist is

Connecting invisible dots in our delirium to order a world of chaos. Too often creators imbue their work with more meaning than there actually exists behind it.

What an artist is

Connecting invisible dots in our delirium to order a world of chaos. Too often creators imbue their work with more meaning than there actually exists behind it.

A chuckle to myself

One day after class I had walked out to the lobby ahead of my students. Down the hall, around the corner, and down the hall again I stopped at the front desk, which was nestled awkwardly in a far corner

A chuckle to myself

One day after class I had walked out to the lobby ahead of my students. Down the hall, around the corner, and down the hall again I stopped at the front desk, which was nestled awkwardly in a far corner