"Yesterday 40 Years Ago"

Yesterday 40 years ago,
I was standing here for sure.
Today 40 years later,
I still know this place.

This place in my memory hasn't changed much -
As if it were blaming me for leaving for so long.
It has shrunk surprising, though -
Just like my parents did as they aged.

What could I have done for it though,
Even if I had stayed here?
What would have awaited me?

I never gave it a thought
Yesterday 40 years ago.
I still have no idea
Today 40 years later.

Crystal Ball

I wrote this short story in 2013.

It was a dark, drizzling day.

There stood a boy, holding a colourful parasol of vivid red, yellow, green, and blue. He opened it to the sky and closed, and then opened and closed again. He did it over and over, while sprinkling crystal-like water drops. He never knew weeds around him were a bit annoyed by that.

There was nobody else except for him. Only a dirty, big and old cat was watching him with no particular emotion on its face, from a distance.

I was gazing at the scene in a little crystal ball repeatedly.

And then I realized it was mere a dream when I woke up in the morning.

Weather Warning and Morning Coffee

July 3, 2015

The heavy rain has been falling since this morning, and residents in my city are warned of landslide disasters and floods by an official weather warning. Still, I have to work. To drag my brain out of sulky drowsiness, I made myself a cup of steaming morning coffee.



My morning coffee does not mean anything luxurious though. It is just a cup of ordinary instant coffee. But it is even effective enough to get my mind ready to start working.



I am feeling a warm scent of coffee through my nose while listening to the fierce rhythm of the falling rain. My tongue does not accept hot food nor drinks, so I must wait a while till they cool down a little.



By the way, a combination of the sound of the rain and coffee scent always reminds me of my childhood on rainy days, especially the memories of those days when it rained too hard for me to walk to school.



It was a little late in the morning, but because of the rain which would not stop, my house looked dark as though I were floating under the sea. And it was fairly quiet, except for the sound of the rain drumming the ground. I may have heard my mother’s quiet voice relaying the news of the closed school to one of my classmates’ parents, and a weather report from TV.



Then, a scent of morning coffee that my parents would drink was brought to my nose. I could not drink it myself back then, but still, the fragrance was rather impressive to me. I could see the heavy rain falling outside, and could hear my mother’s voice and weather warnings from a distance. And the scent of coffee which was aromatic as if it assured me a little treat of a day off from school. The stage setting with all these elements was surely something for my childhood mind, even though I had a sense of guilt at my joy at the downpour, of course.



They say smell is more connected to memory than any other senses. That is probably why, whenever I have a cup of coffee on a rainy morning, I think about those days when the school was closed because of the heavy rain. The flashback of an endless loop where the rain grows strong and weak, my mother’s voice and weather reports which echo muffled in my ears, and the scent of hot morning coffee. They always bring me into mixed emotions of joyful expectation and a bit of guiltiness, even now.

"Learning to Fly Again" and Chroma Key

These images are titled "Learning to Fly Again."

I often listen to music when I edit photos. These days, I pick an ex Dream Theater keyboardist, Kevin Moore's project, Chroma Key.

For editing the three images above, I used a song named "Strong". I won't say , or I can't say that I was inspired by it because it may be a wrong interpretation of the song and the lyrics. Having said that, however, in the tone of his keyboard playing, I see a sun-setting sky, purple, red, or gold, maybe over New York(I haven't been there though).

"Strong" by Chroma Key

A Cameo

I wrote this very short story when I was 16 - 17, and translated it with a help from an ALT. 

A Cameo

On a small stone bridge, a girl holding an umbrella was standing.

The girl wore quite a white dress. The umbrella which she had in her hand was white, too. It was her lover who gave them to her. Then, in a drizzle, with her beautiful eyes opened wide, she was waiting for the man.

Her lover was conscripted when a war happened between the girl's country and the neighbor country a few years ago. She was staring at him leaving the town, from a distance. She never cried. She was sure just that he would come back alive to her. At least, her mind was filled with the forethought.

And the war had come to an end and her country was defeated. Young men, being exhausted, returned to the town. But only her lover did not come back. "He died in the battlefield," said the men who had been soldiers like him in the war.

She would not believe at all. "I'm sure that he'll come back. Because my dear promised me to meet at the stone bridge." She went there every day and stood there waiting for him. With the white dress, and sometimes with the white umbrella.

After a while, she became white, as cold as a stone. Wearing the white dress, putting up the white umbrella. In a drizzle, without even a little movement. Not knowing that a beautiful young man came from over there, looked at her, stopped, and after a while kissed her, in tears, on her lips.

On a small stone bridge, a girl holding an umbrella was standing.

Nearly 15 years have passed since I wrote this. Now, I think there may be two interpretations. The lover wangled out of the battlefield but needed some time to recover from the severe wound. Or, he was saved and cured by a new girl, fell in love with her but split with her somehow, and came back to the town. The former is a teenager's fantasy while the latter is a bit bitterer and more mature. Which do you prefer? 

Like You Dream

Like You Dream

Like you dream,

I am there and you are here

You are not there and I am not here