Eventually, she went to work in a shop on Beretania before buying the business and operating it until the downtown building was torn down. Thirty-five years ago, she moved to Liliha Street. The barbershop there is tiny and old. Termites have dined on the built-in cabinets that hold clippers with steel surfaces burnished by constant use and shears still sharp and shiny. Yellowed stuffing puffs from holes in the leather of one of the two barber chairs.
Paint peels from the benches and stools and from the building's facade.
Although three different generations of linoleum covers the floor, it is swept clean, the shelves and glass panels are dust free and the good barber chair is spotless. As she talks, Nakamura stands with her arm draped over the back of the good chair, the position seeming as natural as breathing to her. There is no sign for the store. There is also no phone in the shop. I want people to visit.