Peak death

IN HIS office behind Tokyo’s Aoyama cemetery, Yukihiro Masuda says that these days prospective clients are so much readier to talk about the end of life that he encourages them to try out his coffins. He gestures at one: a handsome model, lined with white satin, and decorated on the outside with superb red kimono cloth. Inside, with the lid closed, it is as acoustically dead as a recording studio, quite soporific and, for this overweight Westerner, at least, rather snug at the shoulders and hips.