Photos from the Prefrontal Cortex

The title makes little sense, but I chose it because the word Prefrontal Cortex tickled my ears. How else could I introduce a series of old photos from the trunk I unearthed in the basement? The photos record snapshots of the places my feet have taken me during my long walks around Yokohama in the afternoons.

Now, my hypercritical photographer buddy Roger criticized my choice of colors. “Orange trees? Now tell me, where have you seen orange trees in your lifetime?” I poured him another shot of Jack Daniel’s. “Oh, I see,” he said, gulping down the Jack. He held up the shot glass for a refill before I could pour a drop or two into my own shot glass. “Yes, I’m beginning to see orange.”

I was walking up to Akira’s studio when I saw the umbrella in front of the Tea House on Old Tokaido Road.  The entrance to the Tea House was cloaked in darkness. Hardly a welcoming sign, But I didn’t mind. I was heading to Akira’s where he would brew me a hot cup of coffee from his newly purchased coffee maker.

I find presenting a photo in a pseudo-negative print brings out the qualities often overlooked in brilliant colors. The gentle wave rolls between the piers benign on the surface, but with a carefully disguised smirk. It knows other waves far more powerful could swallow up the piers and a good portion of Yokohama’s coastal residences.

Cold winter days invite only the hardiest of shoppers to venture outside. The pandemic was just settling in when I took this photo. There was one additional benefit of the face masks. It kept shoppers’ faces warmer.

Not everyone took the early warnings seriously. They walked outside brazenly without wearing masks. Only one person wore the mask. Perhaps he had a cold. One thing is for sure, the person staring into his device was oblivious to the pandemic and everyone else around him.

You people under the age of 80 are fortunate. You don’t have to wake up several times a night to empty your bladder. I wake up in darkness. But I’m not alone. My alter ego stares down at me. The unrelenting eyes never give me a moment’s peace. Accusing eyes!  “Do you remember when you were six years old? You stole a cookie from the cookie jar. You knew your mother would tell you no more cookies. But you sneaked back into the kitchen when she was in the living room knitting a sweater for your birthday.” Minor crimes. Major transgressions. They all float into my conscious mind as I walk to the room where I can relieve my bladder. If only I can relieve the pressure in my mind as easily.

I enjoyed my trips to Carmel Valley to visit my brother and his wife. They live in a comfortable home with a panoramic view of the valley below and the surrounding mountains on the other side of the valley. When the fog rolls in from the ocean in the morning, the mist cloaks the mountains in mystic dew drops. Something magical about the fog. It brings refreshing moisture to plants and trees suffering from the heat.

Ah, yes. The play and video production of years past. Two actors portrayed an entire ensemble of characters in Dickens’s immortal story A Christmas Carol. I’m still working on presenting it to a wider audience.