pathnoway

I sit in the blue print/drawing vault in the engineering building in Okinawa Japan. So does the microwave. Every morning, a older gentlemen walks in to use the microwave to prepare his water, for what I assume to be tea. He sets the timer, walks out, and has timed it perfectly. When his hand touches the handle, it beeps. If for some reason his game is off, he's fairly disappointed and expresses it with a grunt. He's either counting it down, which I take to mean he's extremely bored. OR his natural clock just knows, which tells me he's been in this routine far too long. There is Yama. Yama is a 60 something year old Okinawian man (don't know his title or what he does really). He comes in and does stretches. His stretch involves ... read more

My Japanese modeling career was unexpected and short lived. I've never been one for the camera, but when I was randomly approached by a goofy looking Japanese guy, just outside Yokota's main gate, I became curious. Once he informed me the magazine was hip hop, I couldn't refuse. The translator, Dai, picked me up at my apartment around noon and handed me a hot coffee he purchased from a vending machine. It was snowing outside and on the ride to the shoot, Dai informed me I would be sporting their new spring line. He also preformed well, building up the job and attempting to make me feel as if this day was THE big turn in my life. "We've been looking a long time for someone like you. Then we saw you walking. We were lucky. ... read more

Fresh off the plane in Guatemala city, I grab my two backpacks and head towards the crowd. I walk onto a stage looking up at the audience. The house is packed. Family from all over the country come to meet their loved ones off the plane. They aren't there to simply connect, find their car or bus, and be on their way home. It's an entire event. It's a production. When their loved one appears on stage, their section goes wild. I don't have a section. I look up and see nothing familiar. I turn sideways in attempt to squeeze through the crowd. I feel a bump on the lower part of my bag and look behind me to notice a little girl on the ground. I must have hit her pretty hard. I say I'm ... read more