5ーThe Day Paolo Opened My Curtains—and My World
One day I hosted a guy from Los Angeles named Paolo. He was a 3D engineer working for a big-name animation studio in Hollywood.
He cooked risotto in my tiny Tokyo kitchen with such skill and ease, I just stood there watching, mesmerized. Then, the next morning, as sunlight streamed through the curtains, he looked at me and asked with a casual smile:
“Have you ever been to Tsukiji?”
I shrugged, vaguely.
Back then, the idea of going to Tsukiji felt… outdated. Fish markets seemed chaotic, messy, even smelly. Living in Tokyo, I felt like I should be spending my time in more sophisticated, cosmopolitan places. Somewhere with cleaner lines and better lighting.
But Paolo insisted.
So, for the first time in my life, I walked into Tsukiji Market.
It turned out to be the last time too. Within a few years, the historic inner market would be completely dismantled. Today, the very spot we walked through together is nothing but an empty lot—a space destined to become a massive arena sometime in the 2030s.
Every time I visit the area now, I glance at that vacant land and remember Paolo. That morning. That conversation. That spark.
It was a brief encounter—but one that left a lasting imprint on my life.
And after Paolo, more guests followed. From Mexico, the U.S., Canada, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Tunisia, the UK, France, Romania, and Russia…
Each person carried a piece of the world with them. And with every visit, my home became more than just a room—it became a little portal to everywhere.
