I read a short story written in Japan about two men who didn't know each other who met late at night by a wall with a plum branch coming other it and had a verbal argument.

The narrator said the other man was drunk. I thought maybe they both were. It was a hostile encounter. It was clear neither was afraid of violence either from the other or from other people out late at night.

I didn't understand a lot about the story and I didn't know if that was because I didn't know the culture, or because they were both drunk, and drunks are non-understandable.

What stayed with me was the beauty of the plum branch. It was very very there and beautiful.

--The story is by Ibuse Masuji and is in his "Salamander and Other Stories."