Steampunk coffee shop

Sign on a Kitsch street…

Hugo: Hmm. And are the coffee beans here ground by a dirigible?
Sophronia: I’ve heard the barista’s name is Percival and is famous for his froth portraits.
Hugo: It’s early, but I could go for a second cup. My stamina gauge is flickering.
Sophronia: Same. There’s a whole morning ahead. I need fuel for philosophical rambling and shoe shopping.
Hugo: I can imagine the taste: smoky, with hints of mahogany and existential dread.
Sophronia: Come on. We have to try it. It’s practically calling to us in Morse code.
__________
Voice-over
There are steampunk coffeeshops. Design elements: gears, cogs, exposed pipes. Colors: gold, browns, reds. Metals: copper and brass. Mixing retro with futuristic. Makes you wonder what Victorian coffee shops really did look like.

Maybe an Orang Utan

Childhood dangers in India…
Jessica: We had to be careful not to get sick, Delhi belly or dysentery.
Rowan: Animals?
Jessica: Oh yes. Cobras. There was one on the corner where we caught the bus.
Rowan: Every day?
Jessica: Sometimes. It was a snake charmer’s. And one day there was a monkey up the tree in our garden.
Rowan: Wild?
Jessica: It had escaped from the zoo next door. I was going out the door and it was up the tree looking at me. I backed inside. The servants took care of it. 
Rowan: They caught it?
Jessica: They called the zoo people and they came.
Rowan: What kind of monkey?
Jessica: Maybe a specialized monkey. It was orange. Anyway, I missed the school bus so Mom wrote a note saying it was because of the monkey.
Rowan: A feasible reason. Sounds like an orang utan. An ape, not a monkey.

_________
Voice-over
Orang utans are apes, and tailless, unlike monkeys. Orange-brown, living in densely foliaged trees, so maybe not needing darkly pigmented skin like gorillas for UV protection.

White August Rabbit

 WHITE RABBIT
WHITE RABBIT
WHITE RABBIT

Summer looms.
Will it last until winter I wonder.
At that, I'd squawk if I could.

Auspicious meetings on summery journeys.

Wedding Guests

Not knowing anyone there…

Bill: Wow, look at this crowd. I don’t recognize anyone.  
Jill: Same here. Olive must have had a lot of friends to invite two hundred.
Bill: That tracks. The charisma of an influencer.  
Jill: Remember that massive share house she ran? Like, a hundred residents?  
Bill: Right! And Karl was one of them. So… maybe most of these guests are ex-housemates.
Jill: Place was more commune than house. She did say they were her family.
Bill: But many of them seem to have made it. Gone a bit further than growing veges and making their own clothes. Look at the turnout. I feel underdressed. Even in a bow tie.
__________
Voice-over
Perhaps the share house is the new urban iteration of the commune some of us knew back in the 60s.

Choking and Falling

Discussing recent medical checks…
Simon: Went for my annual check-up yesterday. New questionnaire. First question: “How many times a week do you experience choking while eating?”
George: Choking? Huh, cheerful opener. Mine started with, “Have you had a fall or a near fall in the last six months?” I told him, “Define near fall.”
Simon: The hallway’s become my unofficial handrail. I should install actual ones, but I’d miss the thrill.

George: Thrill? You mean the adrenaline rush of wondering if tonight’s the night your hip meets the floor?
Simon: That’s it. He also asked if I’ve noticed any memory loss. I said, “I don’t remember.”
George: Classic. Mine asked if I’ve had any unexplained weight loss. I said, “Only when I forget to eat lunch.”
__________
Voice-over
Doc used to ask about prostate screening. Not anymore. When you ask why, he says, “At your age, something else will likely carry you off before that kicks in.” Like being told the fire alarm’s broken but don’t worry, the building’s already on fire.

Riffing on Sign of the Cross mnemonic in Shanghai

After noodles in the Jing Jiang dining room…
Jim: Care for a beer?
Horace: I-píng píjiǔ! One of the few phrases I’ve picked up. Means “a bottle of beer,” right?
Jim: So I hear. Let’s go find a cold one before the night gets too philosophical. (Arriving at the elevator) Shall we take her up? (Jim pats himself in four places: forehead, chest, left pocket, right wrist.) Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch.
Horace: What? Some kind of ritual?
Jim: Never know when you fly in one of these Chinese elevators. Old habit. Used to say it before flying missions in the war. If you got shot down, those were the essentials. Eyes to see, balls to run, money to bribe, and a watch to know when to move.
Horace: I always thought it was a cheeky way of making the sign of the cross.
Jim: It is. Catholic schoolboys’ version. Helped us remember the order.
Horace: Did it ever work? The ritual, I mean.
Jim: Well, got shot down over Belgium once. I had all four. Made it back with a limp and a story. So yeah, I suppose it worked.
_________
Voice-over
Jim riffs on the traditional Catholic mnemonic “Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch,” which itself was a way for schoolboys to remember the order of the sign of the cross. That said, the sentiment behind the phrase, checking for essential items before a dangerous mission, resonates with the kind of pragmatic rituals that soldiers and airmen might adopt. Many veterans developed personal routines or superstitions before flying or going into combat, often blending practicality with a touch of gallows humor.

Tale of Two Buildings in Two Cities

Film talk…
Ben: Saw a film on the flight back about Miles Warren and Maurice Mahoney, whose Christchurch Town Hall was wrecked in the 2011 quake. The government wanted to demolish it, but citizens—and Mayor Lianne Dalziel—fought to repair and preserve their heritage building. Well worth a watch.
Vivienne: Yes, I saw it at the film festival last year. And it reminded me of another story about a rescued building. In Napier. After the war, citizens paid for a memorial hall designed by Guy Natusch. Commercial interests later commandeered it, stripped its plaques, and even renamed the place. But Mayor Kirsten Wise rallied the people, reclaimed ownership for the city, reinstalled the Roll of Honour, and named the ballroom after Natusch. Civic victory.
Ben: Two cities, two halls, two mayors—each a guardian of collective identity. Uncanny parallel.
Vivienne: Imagine an afterword on the Maurice and I film. Maybe a short one weaving both tales together. 
Ben: It’s a possibility. Archival footage, contemporary interviews, the wreckage followed by resurrection.

__________
Voice-over
This could work. Parallel narrative on common themes, characters and outcomes.

Prolific Parrots

Meeting around tennish…
Luke: Why'd you quit your first coach? You were all in a few months ago. 
Suzie: Ugh. Everything was “Push through it!” or “Champions never quit!” Like, calm down, I just want to play doubles and eat grapes afterward.
Luke: So what changed? You have a new coach now, right? 
Suzie: Yep. Complete opposite. Big, muscular triathlete. Part-time tennis coach, full-time doctor and empathetic legend.
Luke: What typifies an “empathetic triathlete”? 
Suzie: Okay. One day, he found a tiny parrot on the roadside. Just sitting there, all fluff and no clue.
Luke: A parrot? Like “Polly want a cracker” parrot? 
Suzie: Tiny. Blue and green. Big eyes. So he took it back to his room, which is like... practically a closet.
Luke: This muscular man... cradling a parrot in a shoebox? 
Suzie: Better. He fed it with a hospital syringe. One drop at a time!

Luke: And let me guess, they bonded? 
Suzie: Oh, way more than bonded. Turns out it was a she and laid eggs.
Luke: No way. 
Suzie: Way. They hatched. Then those parrots found love. Now he’s got twelve. Twelve birds.
Luke: In that same tiny room? 
Suzie: He bought six cages. Because parrots pair, you know. One per couple.
Luke: Is he single?
Suzie: Ha! Let’s just say he’s emotionally married to his parrot community for now.
Luke: I’d be terrified to drop by and get judged by twelve tiny eyes. 
Suzie: Oh, they absolutely judge. They blink in unison when skeptical.
__________
Voice-over
Coffee over, Luke sensing Suzie’s tennis is going well, to which she replies that she is lobbing better and laughing a lot more. Which, she declares, is a real win.

White Tanabata Rabbit

Tanabata, when wishes are written on strips of colored paper (tanzaku) resembling very narrow postcards. Tanabata celebrates the annual attempt for separated weaver Orihime and her cowherd husband Hikoboshi to cross the Milky Way to meet. In simpler times girls wished for better sewing skills and boys might wish for better handwriting. I guess the sewing skills wish was inspired by weaver Orihime but I am wondering how better handwriting might improve the life of cowherds like Hikoboshi." Contemporary thoughtful and odder wishes: "I wish it would never rain on Tanabata so Orihime and Hikoboshi could have more time together.” Or “I wish I had a cat the size of a horse I could ride on.”

Porky and Bess

Porky picks up a package from Bess, an old acquaintance…

Bess: To Narita, Terminal 1, South Wing, Baggage pick up.
Porky: A suitcase disguised as a Totoro?  What’s in it?
Bess: This is a need to know only assignment. I’ll pick it up myself on Sunday.
Porky: Where to this time? 
Bess: Somewhere south. I’ll be gone a month. Usual fee?
Porky: You owe me the usual story. Where you went, whether the mission went well.
Bess: Deal. When I get back. A story told in metaphors.
Porky: And with a bunch of riddles to go with it.
Bess: Was it ever not thus?
____________
Voice-over
Porky delivers packages for clients who give him stories to write about. Bess is an agent who is has a delivery assignment every couple of months to a different country. Her instructions are always hidden in an anime character. They met years ago and now take on jobs not for money, but to time-travel. 

Origami Reading Woman

In a stationery store in a remote Japanese town…

Mariko: Just look at this. Stunning, isn’t it?

Shiho: Ooh, very delicate. What’s it called—‘夜長’? Night’s length? You think it’s a woman reading?

Mariko: Yes! Reading by the soft glow of an oil lamp, lost in her own world. Probably writing wistful poetry too.

Shiho: Or maybe she’s ploughing through Tale of Genji.

Mariko: Exactly! That kind of noble melancholy.

Shiho: You realize she’s made of rice paper, right? Drop her once and she’s confetti?

Mariko: Nonsense. I’ll swaddle her in bubble wrap and she’ll be fine. The shopkeeper said a friend made this. Possibly one of a kind. How can I not make it the crown jewel of my collection?

 

マリコ: これ見て。すごくない？

シホ: おお、すごく繊細。“夜長”って書いてあるね。夜が長い…読書してる女性かも？

マリコ: そうそう！油灯の下で、静かに読書中。たぶん、しっとりとした和歌も詠んでるの。

シホ: それとも源氏物語を読破中かもね。

マリコ: まさにそれよ！貴族的な憂いね。

シホ：…でもさ、この人、和紙でできてるよ？ちょっと揺れただけで紙吹雪よ？」

マリコ: 大丈夫！気泡緩衝材でくるんで、私より無事に移動できるわ。店主さんが言ってたの。知人の作で、たぶん一点物だって。これはコレクションの中心にすべきよ。」

_________

Voice-over
A woman reading into the hours when the world goes quiet. Rendered as origami. Who created this? An artist up a valley who creates stories out of folded paper?

Rainy Season Strategies

Avoiding humidity…
Hiroshi: You sleep like a cat, curled up, 
Hiroko: I nap a lot in the rainy season.
Hiroshi: I don’t sleep. 
Hiroko: And you don’t drink enough water.
Hiroshi: It’s rainy season. I osmose. Take in water through my skin.
Hiroko: How about summer in Hokkaido. Dry air, clean breezes.
Hiroshi: Ah, Hokkaido, I would reinvent myself. Drinking milk instead of water. Staying at a farm, where kind farmers give me miso ramen and a wool sweater.
Hiroko: Sweaters in summer?
Hiroshi: Hokkaido summers are mild. Perfect for light wool. Functional. Cozy. And you will have less need for napping.
Hiroko: But who will take care of the cat?
_________
Voice-over
Hokkaido being further north than Honshu with its hot humid summers, does have a cooler, more temperate climate, and no distinct rainy season. Might be worth trying for a summer. (Nemuri Neko by Hidari Jingorō).

Solitude or Spooks?

On moving from a rundown overgrown house…
Ricardo: Eventually, you stop noticing the mountains because you’ve spent too long staring at them.
Edwin: So you think it dulls one? That solitude becomes confinement?
Ricardo: It’s not solitude—it’s predictability. I came looking for peace, and I found it. But peace turns into stillness, and stillness into a kind of quiet resignation. After a while, you don’t try to reach goals. You settle. And the trees grow over the house. 
Edwin: It looks, er, charming.
Ricardo: Charm doesn’t fix a broken house. You move out and move on.
___________
Voice-over
Ricardo goes on to remark that Lafcadio Hearne understood places like this. The lingering ghosts, the superstitions... It is then that Edwin realizes it is the ghosts that are driving Ricardo out.

Eggplants and Butterflies

Fifty years on…

Harold: Never thought I'd see this place again. Almost no change. Look - the house still stands. Akiya now, huh?
Hiroshi: No one wanted it. The younger people have left. The old ones stayed, but they are fewer every year.
Harold: Same names. Hando. Ikeda. I used to greet them every morning. Eggplants! I used to grow eggplants in this very garden.
Hiroshi: Hando’s grandson plants them every spring. He doesn’t know why—just knew eggplants always grew here.
Harold: This was my place, my rhythm. Wake up, water the garden, drink tea in the quiet. And the butterflies. They still look the same. Generations on.
___________
Voice-over
Hiroshi remarks that there are so few people now. Cities pull them away.

White June Rabbit

WHITE RABBIT

WHITE RABBIT

WHITE RABBIT

It’s June in Japan,

Irises and hydrangeas.

The rainy season.