When You REALLY Hate Your Neighbors
Making my way back to Kamakura Station after tossing a few plates at the Dish-Breaking Shrine, I was walking through a totally normal-looking neighborhood when I chanced upon this.
A hedge. But not just any old hedge – isn’t this the freakin’ unfriendliest alt picket fence you’ve ever seen? I mean, it’s all thorns, all the time. No leaves. No flowers. Just thorns. And wicked sharp too!
I admit, I had to kind of admire the cussedness of whoever owns the house. If nothing else, growing this thing took huge dedication, and a near-legendary level of anti-neighborliness. We’re talking years of nurturing and pruning. Which kind of suggests it’s not just a case of the casual paranoia that might inspire a homeowner to zip over to Prison Surplus Razor Wire Inc. for a little fence topper.
Kind of perversely made me want to loiter around and see who lives here. Or better yet, who lives next door?
Read a novel set in Tokyo