Dave has a good sense of art. The shirts and shorts added color to the bedroom. 

The bedroom had a magical quality. The four walls became transparent and revealed the thicket of tree branches forming  intricate patterns. I slept on the futon and heard the crickets chirping at night.

Dave worked at his desk, little realizing that his every move was being watched by the dragon. 

I took walks twice a day in Dave's neighborhood. I walked along a road with a view of Koko Head. I admired its shape; yet when I looked at it all I could see were the carp in the pond in the Shinto shrine grounds near my  apartment. 

In the parking lot of Mariner Village 3, I spotted a customized vintage Chevrolet truck.  The sight of it brought back memories of my high school days in the early 1960s.

The tree roots near the entrance to Dave's Town House clung to the earth with the tenacity of a person clinging onto old outdated ideas.

The palm tree stood aloof from the rest of the vegetation. The residents, I was certain, hardly paid any attention to it as they drove past it on their way home to watch the six o'clock news. 

While observing the Egrets running on the Kimiko Iki Neighborhood Park playing field, the Buddhist monk from the caves in Enoshima obscured the background.

I played around with software to create an 8 millimeter camera effect of photos I took of Dave. I added the projector sound effects that sounded like the old projector my parents owned.

The name of the street in Hawaii Kai for some unknown reason produced an image in my mind of the Main Gate to Shojiji Temple in Tsurumi.

The canal water flowing past homes on its way to the ocean appeared surreal and unreal under the gathering clouds.

Tattoos on the trunks resembled those on the Yakuza who sometimes sit opposite me in the sauna in the public bathhouse near my Yokohama apartment. 

Dave pointed out the pattern of leaves on the lawn in front of his Town House. Again, I am sure no other residents took notice of them. Why should they? Leaves on grass have no impact on daily lives. But Dave took notice. And I did. Leaves on the grass open a window to birth and rebirth.

Man-made landscaping of trees contrast the rawness of nature. For some, the trees create an exotic atmosphere. For others, a feeble attempt to improve on nature.

On the last day of my visit, I took photos of Dave on the veranda. Dave reminded me of the Lotus Flower. No matter how many times he has faced disappointment, he comes back again with new life and vigor. 

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