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I still remember the day I bought my leather shoes.
The smell of leather as I opened the box.
They were a little stiff at first.
But each time I wore them, they settled into the shape of my feet.
After half a year, it felt as if the shoes knew me better than I knew them.
It was the same when I first picked up a fountain pen.
The first stroke came out a little faint.
The ink had its own way of flowing.
But as I wrote each day, the nib began to learn the pressure of my hand.
That feeling is something a new pen can’t give you.
A closeness that only a well-used pen knows.
The feeling that it’s yours
Choosing a tool is a pleasure.
Which brand.
Which color.
Which material.
Research, waver, compare, decide.
That time, too, is part of the hobby.
But what made it truly special came after.
Used, cared for, little by little it becomes yours alone.
A light unlike the shine of something new — the kind only well-used things have.
It can’t come from something borrowed.
It was a light given off only by things you chose with your own hands and kept using with your own hands.
Time for care
Rubbing cream into leather shoes.
Refilling a fountain pen.
Wiping a camera lens.
Brushing down a suit.
Washing makeup brushes and leaving them to dry.
Each takes only a few minutes.
Yet those few minutes are strangely calming.
No phone. No talking to anyone.
Just attention on what is in your hands.
That may be the quietest time of the whole day.
A weekend pleasure changes the weekdays
“I’ll use that this weekend.”
Just having something that makes you think so changes the look of the weekdays, a little.
Friday night becomes a little more worth waiting for.
Monday morning becomes a little lighter.
It doesn’t have to be a grand hobby.
Even making coffee in your favorite cup is enough.
Having just one stretch of “time for yourself” gives life a rhythm.
The line between on and off grows a little clearer.
Time to take off your roles
Every day, we live many roles.
Yourself at work.
Yourself at home.
Yourself on social media.
All of them are you, and yet all of them are, a little, “the self that’s expected of you.”
Pick up a tool, and you can set those roles down for a while.
Polishing leather shoes, you are nobody’s subordinate and nobody’s boss.
Holding a camera, you are nobody’s parent and nobody’s child.
You are simply inside a time that is yours alone.
And that time is mending something, somewhere in the heart.
With people who love the same things
It’s a funny thing: with people who love the same tools, you understand each other right away.
Age, gender, occupation — none of it matters.
“That’s a nice one.”
One remark, and the distance closes.
People who light up talking about fountain pens.
People who trade tips on caring for shoes.
People who, once they start on camera lenses, can’t stop.
There’s a shared language.
And that alone can bring unexpected connections into everyday life.
A cue was that kind of tool, too
Pool, too, has “a tool of your own.”
The cue.
A single stick, made of wood.
At first, most people play with a house cue.
And that’s plenty of fun.
But keep at it a while, and a day comes when you think, “I want my own cue.”
Your hand settles into the grip.
You come to know the feel of the shaft.
The moment you take it out of the case, you think, “Today, too, I’ll play with this one.”
It felt less like a tool and more like a partner.
A tool that, the more you use it, draws closer to you.
A hobby can deepen through its tools
In times like these, I think the time spent wearing in something you chose with your own hands matters all the more.
It doesn’t have to be fast.
It doesn’t have to be efficient.
You don’t have to show it to anyone.
Just time that is yours alone.
Pool can be that kind of hobby.
It begins with picking up a single cue, and before you know it, that one cue is what makes you long for the weekend.
Some hobbies begin with people; some begin with a place.
Pool can begin with a single tool.
Something worn in until it fits your hand is no longer just a tool.
Before I knew it, that one cue had become a place where I belong.
👉 See the Yokohama Billiard Hall Guide
