I bought this ceramic bowl during one of my earliest trips to Japan, most likely my second visit. I remember being there with my friend Francesca, although memory has a way of folding different journeys into one another, and it may just as easily have been during a later visit. What remains perfectly clear is the ceramic shop itself, tucked away near the Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo along a quiet street lined with temples. I had very little money, but I knew I wanted to leave with one object that would stay with me for life. This bowl was that choice.

That journey marked the beginning of my relationship with Japan. Francesca, a photographer, moved through the city with her camera while I followed at my own rhythm, observing everything with quiet attention. We rarely needed to do the same thing at the same time; we simply shared the pleasure of discovering a place together, each through our own sensibility. Looking back, I realize that this bowl represents more than a memory of Tokyo. It belongs to the moment Japan first became part of my inner landscape. Today, I still use it for simple meals when I am alone or to serve small dishes at the table. It reminds me that the objects chosen carefully at the beginning of a journey often become the ones that accompany us the longest.