What's inside

I love the places with no indication outside of what lies inside.  A passage from the street leads to a slatted wood sliding door.  This opens to a narrow room glowing in warm yellow light.  It is empty.  It is clean and stylish without trying too hard.  Sake bottles and carafes line the cubed shelving behind the bar.  There is back-lighting.  Why does it feel like 1955?  The music.  Jazz, always jazz here in Japan.  

A man with a long, weathered face wearing a bow-tie greets me.
"Chu-sho ku?" I ask hesitantly.
"Yes, of course," he answers and shows me to a table.