I stepped outside of the door, my place is on the second floor, so every day I step out the entrance, I can see directly, the sky and the big island over on the other side. Sometimes, the silhouette is covered in cloud so thick it is hard to see through. Other times, it is there, right there, in front, looming over the morning.
It shows itself earlier than the sun, later than the stars. When it’s winter, the place is dark, the you-can-still-the-stars kind of dark. Twilight.
As I close the door behind me, it is quiet but not quite.
It is the beginning of autumn and there is still the hint of brightness around this time, and you can see through into the space. Cars pass by here and there, all trying to catch the road earlier than everybody else.
The open space distance you experience in this country is completely the opposite of the days in Tokyo. The more I find the senses of this place, the stronger my memory of the city seems to come alive.
Is it that contrast of the neon lights and the brightness of the moon, brighter than anything surrounding the empty streets? Or that busy streets and never ending nights, and the labyrinth of darkness, no lights except the stars and the moon, so bright it illuminates everything.
We all want what we don’t have that moment, we crave for the places we are not in, and want to be with the people we don’t have by our side.
But life is always too short, abrupt endings are not rare, so why live with our minds dragging on backwards?
I miss you so much, I miss the city too, but I love the night sky here and I’m doing okay.