Pensieri Sconnessi on nhaima

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.

Palermo among my thoughts

Sun, 03 Jan 2016 18:01:03 +0000

It is her, the Palermo I miss. The one that is never spoken of, never told. The one that reveals itself, decadent and visceral, in the rain.

It is her, the Palermo of memories. The one you cannot see, the one that shouts at you and won’t let you sleep. The one that hides naked behind the facades of its palaces.

It is her, the Palermo of my thoughts. The one that bewitches you, ingratiating and brazen. The one that devours you and then spits you back out. The one that seduces you and drags you inside with it.

It is Palermo. The one I came to know, the one that swept me away. The only one I could call such.

My London

Tue, 08 May 2012 14:20:09 +0000

This is almost certainly not the first article you will read about London, but perhaps yet another in a long series telling you what to visit in the city, how to get around or where to stay. In reality this time I don’t want to offer you a proper mini-guide to London; rather, I want to tell you about London as it appeared to my eyes and how I still feel its absence. London is in some respects the city of “opposites” — the city where you can choose to plunge into the frenzy of people, sounds and colours right in the centre between Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square; or to take refuge in search of peace and quiet in one of its many beautiful parks.

I remember in this regard one of the most beautiful Easter holidays I have ever spent, right in London, last year. It was Easter, 25 degrees, a warm and enveloping sun, and we — together with many other Londoners — lying on the grass of St. James’s Park, dozing and dreaming. It was not in the least the London I had so often read about: chaotic or noisy. Quite the contrary! It was like being in a different London, completely unlike how it is normally described; it was a calm, pleasant London, almost like a provincial town. London is the city that gives you the possibility of spending entire days immersed in art and culture, very often without paying a single pound. Places like the Tate Modern, or the immense British Museum, or the National Gallery are all absolutely free. Incredible works of art or entire periods of history made available to everyone, which you can choose to visit for whole days at a time. I remember the first day I arrived in London for the first time, on a morning in August many years ago — the very first sensation I felt, despite not knowing the city at all, was one of “home”. I knew nothing of London, beyond the few directions I had been given to reach the place where I would be staying. But its welcoming nature, its “internationality”, never truly made me feel like a foreigner.

When a Tool Becomes an Addiction

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 02:11:27 +0000

There are those who are aware of it and those who are not. And perhaps that is the key to getting out of it. Or perhaps it is only so for “us” who have in truth already been through it, fallen all the way in, and then managed to climb back out and detox ourselves from it. But to what extent can this permeate and influence our lives, down to every smallest thing — reactions, thoughts, attitudes? Completely. And when do we manage to realise this? If ever it even happens. Are we still in time? Perhaps, speaking personally, each one of us would say yes; for my part, without a doubt. But for this society, for all of humanity, I now harbour serious doubts — if not outright no hope at all. It will unfortunately be an ever-growing crescendo. Web 2.0 surrounds us, haunts us, subjugates us. We have it everywhere. Through the computer at home, at the office, on our mobile phones, wandering through shops, through the gaming console, on television. We will reach the point where we can vocally command our home to change our Facebook status the way Jimi in Nirvana used to tell his to run him a hot bath. It is so pervasive, so invasive, that it turns up in your everyday life constantly and continuously, like brushing your teeth in the morning before you go out. And when small sensations, connected to real, living people, yet mediated through this tool, pass through your soul and body — then you understand you have reached that point. The point at which you must reclaim your life entirely, without it being falsified, altered, and dissociated, and without the lives of others — perhaps even people you no longer wanted to be connected to in any way — interfering with your own.