(資料參巧自Wikipedia, Japan Railways Group, East Japan Railway Company, West Japan Railway Company, Central Japan Railway Company, "Privatization and Beyond - The JR Case" by Kiyoshi Nakamura)
The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door He said, "I am not fighting for you any more" The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before And slowly she let him inside.
He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will Only first I am asking you why."
Down in the long narrow hall he was led Into her rooms with her tapestries red And she never once took the crown from her head She asked him there to sit down.
He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun And now will you tell me why?"
The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try" But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry But she closed herself up like a fan.
And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread It cuts me inside, and often I've bled" He laid his hand then on top of her head And he bowed her down to the ground.
"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed But I won't march again on your battlefield" And he took her to the window to see.
And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray And she wanted more than she ever could say But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away And would not look at his face again.
And he said, "I want to live as an honest man To get all I deserve and to give all I can And to love a young woman who I don't understand Your highness, your ways are very strange."
But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait She would only be a moment inside.
Out in the distance her order was heard And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred The battle continued on by Suzanne Vega, from the album under the same name, 1985
I knew Frida Kahlo during a video-showing session at college. The girl sit next to me cried so badly as the tape rolled, that her sobs almost covered the video's narration. Indeed Frida's misfortune isn't something that most common people like us who are brought up healthily could imagine.
Born with a congenital problem and later contracted with polio at her childhood, Frida's road was already doomed with hindrance. As if that wasn't enough, she was severely injured in a streetcar accident at the age of 18, from which she not only lost her childbearing ability but was plagued by relapses of extreme pain for the rest of her life. She quitted school and began her painting career since her stay at the hospital.
Freda Kahlo's works has never been one of my best picks though. Her expressiveness and the vivid coloured portraits of sadness and pain do deeply nailed in my memory. As a Mexican, her paintings reflects a lot her originality with her frequent use of skulls and exotic animals in the Mexican mythology in terms of intense, saturated colours and dramatic symbolism, and at the same time reveal her physical and psychological wounds (from her miscarriages and constantly tensed relationship with her husband).
It is interesting that not only the Mexican influence, there is also a HInayana essence in Frida's paintings. Many of her works, especially her self-portraits, are having the composition that resembles those of the Tibetian tangkas. Perhaps it was her unique curriculum vitae that made her develop a much stronger desire to liberate herself than ordinary people do.
From her paintings, one could see Frida's even the deepest feelings revealed daringly without reservation. As André Breton, the renowed surrealist theorist in the last century, commented Frida's works as "a ribbon around a bombshell", Frida herself insisted, "I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality." A man may never understand how miscarriages and the husband's betrayal could impact a woman. Her promiscuous affairs might be an antiseptic for her loneliness and pain. She was only crying out through her works with a normal woman's emotion and sensitivity.
Photo: The Love Embrace of the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Diego, Me, and Senor Xolotl. 1949
I was able to sneaked into the National Museum in Ueno Park last minute before boarding on the final day. Visiting the museum is like buying capsule toys from a vendor machine. This time I was very happy to see this rare scroll of Wang Duo (王鐸). This is not one of his most famous pieces, but his works are always so spontaneous and look so easy, yet every position, size and weight of each character are perfectly designed. I have been fascinated by the works of this 15th century calligrapher, which always pull me back to the fundamentals. It is the process on the top of all.
I was so lucky to find this event when I was just about to retreat from the tightly packed Harajuku streets on Sunday. The show was all about the font, with analysis and comparison with other typefaces, displays of real works of the whole timeline, plus a 80-minute video show of a number of notable designers (Lars Müller, David Carson, Neville Brody, Paula Scher, Stefan Sagmeister...) talking about the type. This show took place on the top floor museum of a casual young shopping place and asked for only 300 yen for entry, something for everybody.
If shopping malls and restaurants are the holy land for housewives, trains and subways are definitely where their counterparts belong. Beginning early from 7 am, non-stop waves of homogeneously black-suited dull faced salarymen crash continuously into every single corner of the cars, until end of the day.
Heaven and earth are just a few stairs in between.
From the posh Roppongi Hills arcades and Midtown to the classic museum complex in Ueno park, to historic castles and temples, and to hot spring resorts in the outskirts... don't get shocked to find yourself circumscribed with flows of Japanese housewives, anytime and anywhere, 7 days a week.
I think the islands could not be less grateful to their lovely contribution which keeps most of the nation in jobs to bread the families for decades.
