I neither like nor dislike dolls. They leave me cold. As a child, I was about as attracted to them as I was plastic guns. Dolls are ‘cute’ and ‘creepy’ simultaneously. Substitutes.
After being whisked away after work to a Turkish restaurant, where we listened to Madonna, and had a tearful singalong to Don’t Cry For Me Argentina with my parents via FaceTime (there was nobody else in the restaurant), we took a taxi to my birthday surprise destination : the Yokohama New Grand Hotel, a place I have always been curious about : sitting in the lobby the following morning I read that the legendary establishment at the edge of Yamashita Park had hosted General McArthur and Charlie Chaplin
After a very nice breakfast, as it was just one minute down the road, D said he wanted to go to the Yokohama Doll Museum.
It was a cold, damp morning, the yellowing zelkova trees lining the street towards the chintzy dollhouse, where we filled in contact tracing information sheets despite being the only person there aside one woman