Home at dusk

I look out of my window and I see Tokyo. It lives and breathes and sleeps. Yet if I am in my room for any length of time, I sometimes need to open the window to convince myself that there is still a world outside the walls.
The gentle rhythm of cicadas – a midnight song suggestive of natural surroundings not to be found in this urban metropolis – ebbs with the constant traffic.
I of all people am a transient. A temporary life; a tree that just as it starts to take root is hoisted from the ground.
I feel the need to connect with people – to be understood.

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