Wondrous days on the road

Imagine a theatre play that can cost you a life! A split second of natural entertainment that makes skyscrapers and bridges swing and bend in the big cities. When the metro cars are put on hold and millions of people emerge on the deserted streets as they are making their way to work by foot. A moment - so worth an update on Facebook or Twitter - when the internet connection fails on you.

May day 2014. There is a dim ray of sunlight coming through the curtain line in a small Tokyo apartment near JR station Higashi Nakano. The room is pitch black like stretches of hair in the careful arrangement of a kabuki wig. In this traditional Japanese art form men dress up and their hair is tucked together in a sophisticated bunch. Suddenly there is a tremble, reaching its peak and then slowly pacing it's pulse. This must be the hammering of wooden clappers on the floor as they typically mark the beginning of the play.

Next, a high tuned voice can be heard. Listening one instant longer and it starts to resemble the clinking sound of stationary kitchen items being moved by an unidentifiable force from one cupboard side to another. I try to get up. My body doesn't follow. It is held under the stern view of a kabuki actor in his mie pose, a movement in freeze to establish his character in the play.

The high tuned voice starts again and slowly transforms into a warning uttered by the loudspeaker outside the building. It says something in Japanese: "Please leave your house and make your way to the earthquake emergency shelter." The kabuki play in my head stops abruptly and I get a faint sense of what is happening.

Earthquakes are common in Japan. Most remain unrecognized, documented only by the subtle measurements of seismographic instruments. The bigger earthquakes however find their way into our memory, ready to be recalled a long time after the rumbling has stopped. This is my first one.