As I seated on the bar drinking my coke, this 'salary-man' came to me and said: “do you speak English, I presume?”. This is quite uncommon as, in our capacity of gaijins, we are not supposed to mingle with locals. At least, that is what some of them think. I do, I said, as he brought his glass and seated next to me. I could feel the alcohol in his breath, his eyes and his everything. And tell me, he continued, do you know what is necessary to let a man fall in love? As from that moment, this nameless Japanese man, found in a stinky bar in Ushigome Kagurazaka, spoke for two hours and got lost in severe drunkenness. When I got home, I went to read “Letters of a Portuguese Nun” (“Cartas Portuguesas”), by Soror Mariana Alcoforado. Things do match. A Portuguese nun in the 17th century and a Japanese salary-man in the 21st century.

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