What’s Left of Murakami’s Tokyo?
As I arrived at Narita Airport, my head was filled with images of Haruki Murakami’s Tokyo. I imagined stepping out of my taxi to meet smoky jazz bars, bell pepper spaghetti, and Kafka-esque cityscapes. Instead, I confronted a globalised urban sprawl. Canned pop music echoed across the stree
Bosch: Hypnotic Degeneration
I have always called myself an atheist, but this spring I found myself on a pilgrimage. Desperate for cultural enrichment on my short holiday in Madrid, I stood in front of the neat white steps of the Prado. My friends and I, vaguely hungover, flinched at the packs of European schoolchildren queuing
