wow… back from the deep inaka after several days. And only a few bruises to show for it ;)
Spent the weekend (and significant portions of the week, hmm…) up in anamizu, for a matsuri, super sneaky surprise birthday party, ocean-side frolicking and so forth. Too sleepy to write about it now, but maybe tommorrow / the day after – pictures forthcoming as well. But for now, I have to make lesson plans for tommorrow… AAAAHHHH!! *runs off in deep panic trying to remember, what, exactly, he was babbling on about last time in class*
Today the weather in the hood is beautiful – for the first time since I got here, I finally started to get the sense that autumn is just around the corner. I was walking in the eastern teahouse district earlier today, and noted the sun reflecting from windows hidden behind immaculate wooden slats, parallaxing, flickering in and out of focus, seemingly chasing me as I walked by. Behind the silver gray pane, obscure shadows shifted and folded, their muffled tones almost a silent reprimand of the loud crunching of my footsteps in gravel. Cool wind blows from the end of a long alley, fluttering a red lantern, flitting the sharp sounds of merriment to my ears, and then beyond, and a small dog peeks out at me from behind a fence of an even smaller house crammed beautifully between two cement businesses, the rust stained concrete flaring a deep almond orange as they catch the sheaves of the setting sun filtering through the dark forms of trees outlined in the distance. A deep breath reveals not the familiar smells of freshly raked leaf piles but rather the pungent odor of yakitori skewers roasting over coals just starting to heat, and for a moment I miss the mountains of orange yellows browns and greens, and then the wistfulness for crisp breeze blowing smaller leaves around my feet in swirling, dancing circles, and stark stares from barren tree branches thrusting up into velvet purple firey skies, clouds mixing deep into themselves like heavenly camlocks, quietly mourning the passage of time into winter. Heaving my breath out, half-expectant of the cloud of moisture hanging precariously on crisp jet streams, but disapointed to find no visual cue therewithin, I realize that autumn, while close, is not yet here.
Nothing to do, but keep walking on.
Now listening to: “Faye Wong – Xiang nai er”
(I don`t speak chinese, but it sounds very beautiful)
3:54 am

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