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To Miquel   I possess my death She is in my hands and within the spirals of my inner ears She is in the balls of my eyes because she is my eyes If you are having a bad day, my eyes are also your death My death creeps carefully around the spiral of your inner ear and pushes out buds through the branches of your fingers   He met Misaki Konishi in his living room When he entered Misaki was squatting down, reading The servant barely cleared his throat before announcing the visitor’s name: Itakura no Goro The old man raised his face and made a slight movement of the head in the direction of his guest He responded martially Ask my wife to prepare the tea The servant disappeared behind the sliding door Misaki tried to stand up Aren’t you going to help me? he said The samurai hurried to do so, looking away so as not to humiliate him Now standing, the old man placed a hand on his lower back and gave a bow, possibly ironic, to which Itakura once again responded in earnest The old man smiled: I see that your heart remains in Kyushu; you are from Kyushu, no? From Nagoya You are among friends The old man purposefully looked towards his stick, which had been left on the floor The samurai stepped forward to pick it up, and held it out to him A beautiful city, Nagoya; I’m from a fishing village; they call me Misaki because that’s where I’m from; the name with which I was born is Ogata, Ogata Konishi Itakura nodded, barely closing his eyes, which made the old man smile again I tell you, you’re among friends, he said Leaning on his stick, he indicated the panel which opened to the garden, at the back of the living room   To Itakura it seemed that, more than being old, Misaki represented age itself Did you leave any family behind in Nagoya? he asked A wife, and two male children They’ll have opportunities in the city, they won’t be forced to do as