IT IS A BOUNDLESS COLD AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD…

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By Tom H. Brooks 3

Date: Friday, January 7, 2011, 8:13 PM

  I have fought my way through 47 kilometers of blinding snow to send
you this dispatch.  After blundering aimlessly through the numbing
cold, I have finally found an old, obsolete computer on which to
write.  I am at a tiny, dusty cafe enjoying a cup of green tea and a
riceball in a small Japanese farming town that shall remain nameless.
Everything around me is blanketed in a thick layer of deep winter
frost.

IT IS A BOUNDLESS COLD AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD.

I am in the remote mountains of northern Nagano prefecture.  I am
now living in the hollowed-out base of a giant and ancient Zelkova
tree in a shelter of my own design. It is warm and cozy, however,
lacking in modern conveniences.  I have spent the last month of this
winter chopping firewood and digging for edible roots and berries.  I
hunt for rabbits and the occassional fat pheasant.  I am clothed in
many layers and the skin of a giant bear I slaughtered myself, not by
choice…it was him or me.  He lost.  I have a long, graying beard.  I
am a hermit and I survive the blistering cold by sheer willpower.  On
the rare warmer days, I fish on the rocky banks of the winding
Asahikawa-あさひかわ….(the Sunrise River).  I am sometimes lucky enough
to catch a shiny, silver salmon.
In the cold nights, I sit in my little hobbit hole reading Burton’s
translation of “1001 Arabian Nights” by firelight.  Of all things to
be reading…yes?!?  I dream of the burning Saharan sands, camels,
oases, veiled and dark-eyed dancing girls, incenses and oils….but
then I wake up in the hollow base of a tree with the freezing wind
howling like a banshee outside. It seems there is no end to the snow.
I wait for signs of spring; snow melting, a warmer wind, migratory
birds returning, cherry blossoms…time will tell.  Only the strong
survive.
Wishing you all the best, from the summit of MY mountain; your friend,

Tom H. Brooks 3

(This one`s a flashback to a letter I wrote to my friends back in Los Angeles and NYC when I was living in Nagano, Japan in the midst of a brutal winter.  It is not a poem; it is just me babbling … AGAIN…)
My above attached digital artwork is called The Corridor
THB3
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