On living in the time zone

Sun, 23 Jul 2017 17:49:26 +0000

Here where I am, in Tokyo, it is evening — almost night.

Where you are there is still sun, and perhaps you are out somewhere eating an ice cream.

God, how I would love an ice cream right now — hazelnut and pistachio. And maybe some cream on top.

I really should be making dinner, but I have no desire to. I will smoke something, then sleep. Maybe, if Morpheus deigns to grant me the favour.

Perhaps first I will sink into the bath, water at 38 degrees to dissolve some of these thoughts.

The ofuro: something the Japanese cannot do without. It is more than a habit — it is an almost constant element of their daily life.

Today I needed to hear from you, but while I was trying to prise my eyes open after a somewhat sleepless night, you were going to bed, or perhaps already asleep. And who am I to interrupt your sleep? That precious moment of the day that I am beginning, a little, to forget what it feels like.

To tell the truth, I did pick up my phone, did open WhatsApp, was given a smile — but then I let it go.

I waited 8 hours.

7 time zones plus one. To give you at least enough time to get your coffee and realise a new day had begun; while mine was slowly drawing to a close.

I waited 8 hours.

8 hours imagining you awake and daydreaming about how you might have spent this last Sunday in May. Who knows what the weather is like where you live; I could find out in an instant, but I enjoy ignoring it and carrying on imagining.

Hints of everyday life

Fri, 22 Apr 2016 02:44:15 +0000

Interior, night. Room 503-A of the Akamonkai Nippori Ryo. It is the eve of the weekend and it all began only two weeks ago. It is raining; the wind has finally stopped chasing itself up the stairwell of this building, and I can now perceive almost every single sound — and silence — of the lives in these apartments.

The earth, however, is trembling. Light, constant, sometimes imperceptible; other times with more intention. It does so often, when you least expect it; and even though you know it will happen again, you never find yourself quite ready enough to go along with it.

Japan is like this — it trembles often — and little by little you get used to it; it is a bit like an uninvited friend who drops in unannounced every so often.

Though, to be honest, I do not know whether I will ever truly get used to it. But my days are slowly filling with habits and rituals, with a whole new everyday routine that I like, that makes me feel light, fresh, full of life, charged with an energy I had forgotten.

There is the 8:30 alarm for work, messages with the family who gets up early to go to the office and cannot wait to hear from me, and school that takes up most of my week. Then there is the 4:30 ritual — the phone call with the people I love, while I walk through the streets of Nippori towards the Main Campus library where my new classmates are waiting to study together; the walks around Yanaka, the shopping at Inageya, coffee for everyone on Sunday morning up on the terrace.

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On living in the time zone

Hints of everyday life