An impression of Deira Hanzawa
While she works, a small iron kettle hisses on a gas ring. She brews matcha that she buys from a silent monk in Uji, but she serves it in tiny, handleless cups from Iran. The bitterness cleanses. The sweetness of a single date on the side—that is her philosophy: Life is bitter, so find the fruit. deira hanzawa
Deira picked up the photograph. Held it to the light. Her thumb—the one with the thimble—traced the girl’s jawline. An impression of Deira Hanzawa While she works,