An Artist of the Floating World Read Online Free PDF

made him a gift of a sketchpad and a set of coloured crayons. I now noticed the sketchpad lying on the tatami nearby, three or four of the crayons scattered around it. I could see the first few leaves of the pad had been drawn on and was about to reach over to investigate, when Ichiro suddenly recommenced the drama I had interrupted. "Yah! Yah!" I watched him for a while, but could make little sense of the scenes he was enacting. At intervals, he would repeat his horse movement; at other times, he appeared to be in combat with numerous invisible enemies. All the while, he continued to mutter lines of dialogue under his breath. I tried hard to make these out, but as far as I could tell he was not using actual words, simply making sounds with his tongue. Clearly, though he did his best to ignore me, my presence was having an inhibiting effect. Several times he froze in mid-movement as though inspiration had suddenly deserted him, before throwing himself into action again. Then before long he gave up and slumped on to the floor. I wondered if I should applaud, but thought better of it. "Very impressive, Ichiro. But tell me, who were you pretending to be?" "You guess, Oji." "Hmm. Lord Yoshitsune perhaps? No? A samurai warrior, then? Hmm. Or a ninja perhaps? The Ninja of the Wind." "Oji's completely on the wrong scent." "Then tell me. Who were you?" "Lone Ranger!" "What?" "Lone Ranger! Hi yo Silver" "Lone Ranger? Is that a cowboy?" "Hi yo Silver!" Ichiro began to gallop again, and this time made a neighing noise. I watched my grandson for a moment. "How did you learn to play cowboys, Ichiro?" I asked eventually, but he just continued to gallop and neigh. "Ichiro," I said, more firmly, "wait a moment and listen. It's more interesting, more interesting by far, to pretend to be someone like Lord Yoshitsune. Shall I tell you why? Ichiro, listen, Oji will explain it to you. Ichiro, listen to your Oji-san. Ichiro!" Possibly I raised my voice more than I had intended, for he stopped and looked at me with a startled expression. I continued to look at him for a moment, then gave a sigh. "I"m sorry, Ichiro, I shouldn't have interrupted. Of course you can be anyone you like. Even a cowboy. You must forgive your Oji-san. He was forgetting for a moment." My grandson continued to stare at me, and it occurred to me he was about to burst into tears or else run out of the room. "Please, Ichiro, you just carry on with what you were doing." For a moment longer, Ichiro went on staring at me. Then he suddenly yelled out: "Lone Ranger! Hi yo Silver!" and began to gallop again. He stamped more violently than ever, causing the whole room to shake around us. I went on watching him for a moment, then reached over and picked up his sketchpad. Ichiro had used up the first four or five sheets somewhat wastefully. His technique was not at all bad, but the sketches--of trams and trains--had each been abandoned at a very early stage. Ichiro noticed me examining the sketchpad and came hurrying over. "Oji! Who said you could look at those?" He tried to snatch the pad away from me, but I held it out of his reach. "Now, Ichiro, don't be unkind. Oji wants to see what you"ve been doing with the crayons he gave you. That's only fair." I lowered the sketchpad and opened it at the first drawing. "Very impressive, Ichiro. Hmm. But you know, you could be even better if you wanted." "Oji can't see those!" My grandson made another attempt to snatch away the pad, obliging me to hold off his hands with my arm. "Oji! Give me back my book!" "Now, Ichiro, stop that. Let your Oji see. Look, Ichiro, bring me those crayons over there. Bring them over and we'll draw something together. Oji will show you." These words had a surprising effect. My grandson immediately stopped struggling, then went to gather up the crayons scattered on the floor. When he came back, something new--a kind of fascination--had entered his manner. He seated himself beside me and held out the crayons, watching