The moon was honey colored over the buildings of 東京 [Tokyo] tonight. As it rose, the honey dripped in between buildings and flowed down streets. It made some inhabitants happy; made others sick. For myself, it was sticky sweet all over me. But with no lips to lick it off, I only spread my arms to get covered in confused bees. Humming their tired wings toward the wintry cold sea.
A wind blows that is neither bracing nor warm. I tie ear flaps together to get them from snapping against my neck, cheek, eyelids and lashes. So I can see the way into another wandering night.
But the moon last night, bright white and full, was a perfect guide. And tonight, it came again to hold my hand when I blew out the candle of my phone. Though that burning little box has saved my neck more than once. I can’t complain — but it was nice to be guided like a moth again.
I did not wander but came straight home, bag full of vegetables and noodles I’ve been needing for what feels like 6 days (has only been 2) to buy. 610円 buys me plenty of food to feed myself with. I am pleased to have smaller things. I always needed less, anyway. The carrots and peppers are just two more tangible reminders that the size of this city, this world feels made for me.
As I pick my route back alone from the station, time both slows down and speeds up around me. The blood of 西東京 flows, gathers, ebbs, and moves around me. But the steady pace of the moon’s rise and fall; the earth turning toward or away from the sun — these are guides I know how, at this latitude, to follow. It is dark by the time I find my door. The days were in golden light by the time I left the 学院 [school] with a crowd of others I wasn’t sure I could communicate with.
I learn slow and careful, reading lines at home that I missed at school. I sit in my chair and count…
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10.
And so on.
くろしいです。This is difficult.
No, but: I am being strangled to death by numbers.
(Note: This is not grammatical, but a mistake I made in class.)
I spend the night half-studying, half with new faces and possible friends. The barrier is strong between us, but will it break? It can — but the question is, when? Or if.
I prepare for sleep with numbers and 円 (yen) ratting around in my head. Loose change for my dream-state to arrange. And tomorrow, I continue wandering, getting lost, and finding a grounding in things I have before touched. A spark of fire building…but to light what?
わかれません。(I don’t understand)
In the goldening of tomorrow’s trees, I will hopefully have sealed my name. If all goes as planned, which is rarely does. But then, when I turn about, I find myself in temples and shrines I did not expect with faces who find my ignorance something to be forgiven, not detested.I am eager to apologize and bow.
I know. This is not my home.
Though, I must echo so many others and admit: I wish it could be. But that is a dream to big to process in one night’s sleep. A dream to big, even for me. Instead, I set it on a ledge before wind tunnels and storm towers, and I do not look back. For what the spirits do with wishes and dreams is their own business. Mine is of the physical, temporal realm, and a conduit somewhere between it. A filament, if you will.A bulb glowing from the inside out.
I wonder who, if anyone, can feel the warmth or see the light from it.
And if: はい (yes) — then what am I lighting?
More discovery another day.
For now: おやすみなさい。(Oyasumi’nasai; goodnight.)