YUMI AND THE PHOENIX

Yumi just woke up in Japan at 5:30 am with the sun. Of course she got up, did her daily chores, like brushing her teeth, washing her face, preparing her coffee, as if it were just another ordinary day and until 7:32 pm on that day, May 14, 1994 it was really, very common. But without going much further, we followed the order of events. His small apartment consisted of a corridor with two doors, one of which, when opened, projected a folding bed as part of the restricted bedroom, the other door was the bathroom, at the end of the corridor, the kitchen. Sink, an electric stove, a four-seater table.

Tokyo's busy traffic was rhythming in the mornings. It was like an orchestra without a break, which varied its movements, from horns, sirens and shouting, to works, machinery and the most varied cacophony unimaginable. Yumi was late. There would be no time for a full breakfast. Buttered English bread and poured himself a strong black coffee.