I’m starting to love walking because of the characters of homes I pass. Some of them are clearly composed of different eras of adjustment, becoming a sort of weird frankenstein patchwork building. stop to try and solve its puzzles of “when?”s and “why?”s. but there are also original grannies of architecture with full rusty embezzled bars and peeled paint crowning, still sheltering families. How this street may have looked when this home was in its prime, with all its neighbors now either gone or formed into patchwork. These homes stand as history and character, and the people who live in it still appreciate them (we’re hoping). Although you are not in full flawless glory as you were before in 1903 — you’re still standing. sometimes when I pass these particular homes, I feel like I should say Hi with a smile. Like you would to a respected grandmother or grandfather.

Here, (blurry vision blubbering sounds and always suddenly enraptured in fire but are they simply

bright lights (that catch your eye each burst around your peripheral vision with wires

entangled and (at each corner farce, awareness fuels ignorance

moving (from place to stone oh, the dark! oh,) as (the shadow’s choir stirs can you see the) 

infatuated sighs (of a human soul so seasoned this fluttering line coursing through vessels  and adrenaline oh! it might have taken its toll on the

love and (you have seen) Loved you (expression and color redefining a freedom of who to become and the biology of human desire and selfishness apparent) but

reborn from (and into new priorities for now for them for the passion though sometimes

cold from (aches caused by

damp (skin(ned) dry leather (pain(tings)

then parched (the relentless rays of bewildering mules)

And yet

(faster,

this new species is(defending, hiring waves of thirst and flirtatious forms of gardens

lush with the trust and respect (to be compared with sincere religion, the ideal worship

humans so crave.

the endless tinder (waits for the signal, drums of thunder) to fall 

right at your feet (every so often)

So often soft.

Like the sand between your toes after the rain, melting together in a comforting elixer, a collection of all the gradients that have ever passed through your mind

After waking up as if the world had stopped, I decided to finally see a friend at the woodshop. These basic animation classes day by day as a child yearning to understand words of information she had perhaps already known had become tiring somehow. There was nothing I yearned more than to be handed a new roadmap and vaulted into a new world of touch. Stepping into the wide, bright space, overcome with therapeutic aromas of what seemed like menthol and incense. Perhaps the students had freshened the air to help with all the sawdust and fractured splints. Not at all. This is the natural smell of the wood here. It is really amazing. Is it because of how the wood is treated? Perhaps not. Japanese soil? Towering logs rest against the metal walls watch over peers transform into new entities. Physical and mental processes and freshness filling your lungs as visions become volume and character and vibrations… lights and shadow melt as dust slowly rises into the bulb. New sights emerge tomorrow. I can hardly sleep I’m so excited!!

Empathy extends to everyday habit and mindset as I feel the urge to connect more with Japan with each passing day. The hinderance of oral communication salvaged by outreaching hands of perhaps overeager air and questioned kindness. Maybe so overeager surely but we will never truly know, as they stand minds loud and clear and actions shrouded. Still eager to feel and continue to give, regardless of whether it is considered genuine or rags. Is it so dishonest to thirst for your understanding?

There is no comparable feeling than giving into the *rain.

falling through skies from pink to blue to blue to blue to white created through truly miraculous means of nature, pure, fresh *Life so generously and free falling to the ever thirsty ever thriving Earth and it’s lucky inhabitants. The chemistry and miracle of nature encircling us, 360degree sounds vibes motions, of *LIFE, and interacting with the performance.

allow the cleansing of the clouds, massive spaces of chemistry and beauty, the most rejuvenating run through the streets of musashi-sakai greeting white umbrellas “hajimemashite, ohaio gozaimasu” anxiousness now a foreign concept. for that stretch of time nothing mattered anymore. all the stress of learning Nihongo so intensively somehow escaped my cluttered mind. I had wished it would never end. the ancient god-trees of the ICU campus seemed to greet us with smiling vibrations as the comforting melody of *rain and wind against paint brushes of leaves and phantom sakuras (someday) sang.

cascades kissing the surface of your skin. contributing to songs of percussion all of our ancestors have heard and adored. that familiar song life so desperately looks forward to, all living species and souls connected… this beautiful song, that i dearly hope will always be heard. Give in and soak up the *rain while we still can. and now i can see the sun peeking through the leaves. niihon…. sugoii…. *