"Fuglen Tokyo" – a red bird from Norway – settled in the quiet streets of Oku-Shibuya in 2012, noticeable yet understated. Their roasted coffee beans are always a must-buy souvenir for friends visiting Tokyo to exchange gifts. I'd visited the coffee shop in the afternoon a few years ago; this time, it was for the cocktail bar at night.
Under the dim lights, watching the bartender gracefully shake his mixer, I recalled the saying in rock culture that an electric guitar symbolizes an extension of the male body. Then, suddenly, I thought of Li Zhichao. Years ago, I took a few of his classes on erotic writing, where he introduced many works that evoked sensual imagery. The details are hazy now, but I remember it being very French! He was kind and simple, and perhaps this foundation allowed him to portray desire in a clean and pure way – so captivating. I remember him always saying, "You must go out and try, try more!" Later, I understood that it actually meant giving more opportunities for everything to seduce you, then observing your senses' honest responses and remembering that feeling. If your pores have never properly expanded, you might struggle to express yourself. The atmosphere here is suitable for practice.
"The lighting in the room is perfectly adjusted for the visual perception of beasts; the Tower of Babel cannot stop everyone from looking on covetously. Hmm! His name is Seiji Ogihara, and he is the Head Bartender here. After skillfully greeting every guest who walks into the bar, he always casts a comforting, alluring glance in this direction, reassuring you to continue lingering and enjoying his performance – he grips the cocktail shaker with his gentle, moist palm / he sways his spine to control the rhythm of the ice hitting the shaker / his mouth occasionally curls into an unconscious, subtle upward smile / he delicately licks the back of his hand to taste the cocktail, without any superfluous movements, effortlessly graceful. While watching, I drank the Halvor Hurricane he had just made; it was icy cold, with five flavors lingering in my mouth, sliding down my throat, permeating my belly, waiting for the moment it would mix with stomach acid. Forgetting myself, teetering, I turned around and found that my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass was even more beautiful."
