1.
Sometimes my vegetables and fruit go bad. I forget they are in the fridge and they rot. Every time I discover them I make a grimace of disgust and think what a shame to have let the food go bad. But the other day I found a tomato with a really pitch-black mold right in the center — really beautiful. It looked great because of the ripe-red of the tomato in the background. I got excited and continued examining it; I also found white velvety patches of white molds. They also looked nice, because they contrasted with the smooth surface of the tomato skin. Last night I tried to make a drawing out of it but it didn't come out very good. In the end, it was better to write about it than to draw it.

2.
I've always enjoyed watching people make paper packages. At the bakery shop, the ice-cream parlor, the butcher's. To gauge the level of skill: the speed, the twirls made with the string, the finishing touches and final shape of the package, if the string was to be cut with the fingers, or the teeth or with scissors. Generally speaking, I think my generation doesn't know how to make beautiful packages. Every now and then, within my limitations, I try making  tight and nicely-presented packages. Once I made one using a drawing made in newsprint paper and it come out pretty well.

3.
I make my drawings as I go and many times ruin them. It makes me very upset to ruin them, but I'd rather ruin some than not ruining them ever. Sometimes I think I've ruined them but then I patch them up with something and I like them again. Sometimes I consciously put something in to ruin them and try to see if I can mend it or if they are irremediably lost. Knowing how to draw is knowing how to patch up mistakes. Knowing how to draw very well is not making them. Since I don't know how to draw very well, it often happens that someone's favourite part of a drawing I've made started out as a mistake.

4.
Mugi-cha is a barley tea that comes in tea bags or as roasted grain that has to be boiled in a kettle for about three minutes. When the kettle is emptied out, the grain comes out soft and fleshy. In the outside they are black as India ink while inside they seem as if stuffed with orangy-brown velvet. I like emptying out my kettle in the kitchen basin because it gets clogged easily and then all the grain float about freely in their miniature pool. Everything is more fun when water is involved. When the basin finally drains, I have to take all the barley grain with my fingers. The colors that come out when they are wet are so amazing, that I wish I can someday make a drawing that does them justice.

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