The train was hot and crowded with drunk people, some asleep, some awake, some stuck somewhere in between, all victims of another hot summer’s evening spent drink, no doubt in some cramped small corner somewhere that smelt of stale beer and vomit caked into the walls after years and years of the same rough cycle.
This was Tokyo as he had come to know it. A sticky, sweaty, hastily slapped together swirl of lights, stress, and piss. Continue reading
Think, for a split second, back to when you were a child, lost in the heat of the summer, alive and dancing, dancing and alive, all living on the edge of a moment that you never knew was coming, like a ballerina balanced on the edge of the stage, looming just over a faceless sea of spectators who knew what came next. Think about how they never told you. Think of all the moments you had to experience for yourself, all the pains and aches that came with them, the aching calling of something that both was and wasn’t there waiting for you. Think about those times. Think about how imprecise your memories are of them, like glass seen through the smoke of a fire that just won’t stop moving. Think, if you can. Try to place yourself back in those moments and remember just how much is missing from your memory.
Think about just how much is gone. Think about how you will never have that back. Think and remember that memories are like a pond someone forgot to skim, that no matter how hard you try, you can never quite see the bottom. Continue reading