Just a mention of my home city in one of my favorite Japanese novels. I translated it into English after the Japanese.
When she heard the wind crossing the grove from the back mountain and hitting the door and make a sound, Oryū-no-Oba knew that winter had come again to the lukewarm, narrow-as-water-well alleyways. She thought that winter had probably come as well to a ghetto similar to the roji but in Buenos Aires, where now lived many who had left their children behind and had traveled to a new world; a place where the wind also blew up the foliage and played with the fluttering dazzling leaves under a sun that shone as the momentary illusion of a yellow bird. Oryū-no-Oba closed her eyes and, letting the sound of the wind pour into herself, imagined that she was riding on the wind too, soaring aimlessly as far away as possible, just as one of the leaves in her ears.
ーNakagami Kenji, Sennen no yuraku [Pleasures of a Thousand Years] (1982)
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