Birthday. Sugar Cubes. The music of then discovery, of watching and not knowing (grilled tonight by a newbie to art matters of sorts on the matter of photography and the soul and I tolerated all to a point, until the champagne arrived), of Tokyo new - worms on a string - the theme music of this moment. Walks through the neighborhood Itabashiku the shops the faces every day the sun - she's painting huge books - this music of then and the memory of then and it's now. Today is her birthday and they're smoking cigars. I gave the name to his band's disc, Chain of Flowers, from this song, all a convoluted memory mess. - They lie in the bathtub - this winter night like a night so long ago, where is he now. I left Annie in the arms of a man I hardly know and it's all for the best I presume. The apartment of the now and the past all merged and I left, bereft and in search of my own memories.