Chapters (42)
- Cover Page
- About the Author
- Dedication
- 1
- 1
- One morning
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- Breaking News
- 7
- 8
- 2
- 9
- Mum Rocks
- 10
- 11
- Excerpt from the Book of Wonders
- I Dare
- Excerpt from the Book of Wonders
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 3
- 17
- 18
- Excerpt from the Book of Wonders
- 19
- Excerpt from the Book of Wonders
- It Hurts, But It Doesn’t Matter
- 20
- 21
- 22
- Excerpt from the Book of Wonders
- 23
- 24
- 25
- Acknowledgements
The first stage was the Pokémon Center megastore, in Ikebukuro, where we bought thirty or so super-rare cards and posed in front of giant statues of Pikachu and his friends. People dressed as strange creatures, in cosplay outfits, greeted us: teenagers disguised as characters from the Studio Ghibli, candyfloss-pink schoolgirls, punk Lolitas, superheroes going around in noisy groups. I recognized a Sailor Moon, two Hello Kittys, a Totoro and a few Pokémon heroes, but I’m certain that Louis would have identified most of the characters.
Next, we went for a stroll in the vast gardens around the Meiji Jingu. We were awestruck by this oasis of nature and history in the heart of the city’s hustle and bustle. A surprising change of scene. We gave in to the temptation of taking a selfie in front of the majestic collection of ancient sake barrels that greets visitors, then we captured the special atmosphere of the shrine by placing the camera on a low wall for some minutes. Louis would be able to listen at leisure to the special peacefulness of Tokyo’s nature, the murmur of the city providing a subtle soundscape. The foreground was made up of birds twittering and rustling foliage. We stayed there for a long time, listening. Waiting for the next step of our adventure.
A traditional wedding was going to be celebrated at the Meiji Jingu. I had no idea why Louis wanted to attend a Japanese wedding; it was most likely something he’d read about in a manga magazine, the extraordinary beauty of which he’d intuited. The procession approached. I gestured to the bride to ask if we could film, and she agreed with a smile. She seemed to be imbued with the magic of the Meiji Jingu and of the moment, utterly still in her immaculate cocoon-like dress, a chrysalis of purity. Time was suspended in the reds of the kimonos, the copper roofs, the slow, coordinated steps, the weight of tradition. Leaning towards the camera, I quietly described the scene, mindful of the solemnity of the moment: ‘It’s a stunning sight, darling. You have to see it for yourself. Thank you for having brought us here.’