Below is a short unedited report written and documented by Ken Takakura detailing his unexpected visit to Mr and Mrs Kosugi’s house near Kitajima, Tokushima prefecture.  The reasons for him visiting the house are unclear, as is his connection to Mr and Mrs Kosugi.  Of course, readers, you may feel the need to question the authenticity of the report (particularly the group photograph that appears to have been digitally altered) but please take into account the fact that Ken Takakura is well-known as a passionate advocate of organic viticulture; he owns 63 organic vineyards in the South of France and 2 ramen shops in Tokushima.  I leave you with a quote from Mr and Mrs Kosugi which simply states that ‘he (Ken Takakura) was a very nice man, and he still does not dye his hair.  He has vigorous growth.  He knows a lot about growing grapes’.

*Note: All photographs copyright Ken Takakura estate.
*Final Note: This report was translated with Google Translate and so may not bear any resemblance to the original report.  For this, we are very sorry.

‘The morning was cast over by a greyness the like of which has never touched a snow-capped spirit.  The tyres of my saloon glimmered and my driver was in disarrayment.  Mr Kosugi met thy close to his abode.  On the road.  With braced mid-section for he had a terrible back pain.  At once, I felt very comfortable in his oasis of calm, surrounded upon all sides as it was by lifeless apartment buildings.

At first, we drank coffee and made conversation about our lives.  Two friends joined, Mr Hitoshi and Mr Miyagawa (above; left and middle).

All three could speak English very well although I, having spent much time in Hollywood and America, could not match their prowess and I stuttered many times, out aloud.  I must say that the fried chicken and egg roll sandwiches held a beautiful taste.  Mr Kosugi’s wife is a magnificent cook.  The lives of people touch me in mysterious ways.  Fate is a powerful force much like the movement of the earth’s crusts..
After coffee we went outside to the allotment.  Fruit trees in abundance.  At the bottom of the garden I could see a pair of handsome vitis amurensis, with grapes bound in paper bags.  Mr Kosugi instructs us to ‘cut them all down’.  It reminds me of a line from one of my movies.  One of the bad ones I made, actually.  I forget the name now.

The grapes themselves tasted midly acidic but their flavour was not at all unreasonable.  The Kosugi’s, apparently, make a lot of jam.  I neglected to tell them (although I’m sure they were aware) that the leaves are also edible and add a certain je ne sais quoi to a basic salad.

The light reflecting off the grapes is unflattering for me.

Mr Kosugi’s passion is, of course, melon growing.  Unfortunately, it’s not the season.  He has another little project though – pineapples.

We picked some figs and they secreted a white sticky liquid that was difficult to remove.  It was unpleasant but the figs tasted sweet.  I watched a beatle (Paul?) absorbing some rotting figs.  His arse was shiny.

Like me, Mr Kosugi enjoys a cigarette.

I was asked to do the voice over for a childrens TV program about a peanut who wears magical hats and his nose changes colour.  I don’t think I can do it anymore.  It’s too much.

Copyright K. Takakura 2013