In central Wellington there’s a humble little Japanese restaurant, run by a humble little Korean man, down a humble little brick alleyway. There’s a humble little dish there called Katsudon –rice, egg, onions and a crumbed pork cutlet.
Over many years I’ve had this dish while sitting
alongside lovers, workmates, family, friends, co-conspirators, innovators and artists.
That one dish has been the start point for hours lost to passionate debate,
nights lost to karaoke and days, if not weeks, lost to ideas and dreams sparked
in that humble little restaurant.