52-From His Invitation to My Door
On the way back, carrying ingredients in both hands,
a memory suddenly rose to the surface.
Years earlier, in my cramped old apartment,
an Italian guest named Paolo had opened my curtains wide
and casually said:
“Have you ever been to Tsukiji?”
I hadn’t wanted to go.
Back then, the fish market sounded old-fashioned, chaotic,
the opposite of the sleek, “modern Tokyo” I thought tourists should see.
But he insisted.
So I followed him out the door.
That one invitation—
Paolo opening my curtains and leading me into a world I hadn’t chosen yet—
became the first step toward everything I do now.
Back then, I was the guest.
He was the one opening a threshold to a new world.
Now, walking up the stairs to my little classroom,
I realized something:
This time, I was the one standing on the inside of the door.