My apologies for lack of posting. I hope that you've been following my photos and status updates on facebook if you've wanted to keep up with me and my adventure in Japan.
Tonight I read a story of two lovers, a soldier and his wife, who took their lives one night in the name of the Imperial Forces in the 1930s. The story was very detailed, full of love, and had rich, vivid descriptions of the man committing seppuku with his wife as witness. She, too, ended her life that night.
After reading this story, I wanted to leave the brightness of the dorm and head outside. The air was cool and crisp, its air sweet with the scent of cut grass. Today was the first day that I heard the cicadas in Japan since coming here just 3 months ago.
My friends and I walked to the cemetery, and then off into the small forest that lay beyond the field there. We saw a figure with a flashlight, walking carefully, his light tracing frenetic circles on the earth around him. We weren't sure what to make of him, but we pressed on nevertheless.
Oh, the scent. It was intoxicating. Walking toward the hill in the forest, you never would have known you weren't back home, exploring some abandoned place with your friends a few blocks from your house. We climb the steps and reach the summit, whereupon we reach a paved circular platform, its center empty and full of earth. We were confused for awhile, not sure what it meant.
But I didn't care. We came without lights, and it was difficult to see clearly. I rested my hand on a tree, and it came back sticky with sap. The sap smelled like cloves and carrots - it reminded me also of the white spice drops you find back home. It was so refreshing. I loved the scent of this pine tree, and even more wished that I was home, at least for one day. But I decided I was content with just the scent of being home - I only have a few more weeks here, anyway.
We made our way back and avoided the man, who we know see is a night watchman, and got home safely. It was a wonderful detour from the daily life here that I've become so accustomed to.
Tyler
Tonight I read a story of two lovers, a soldier and his wife, who took their lives one night in the name of the Imperial Forces in the 1930s. The story was very detailed, full of love, and had rich, vivid descriptions of the man committing seppuku with his wife as witness. She, too, ended her life that night.
After reading this story, I wanted to leave the brightness of the dorm and head outside. The air was cool and crisp, its air sweet with the scent of cut grass. Today was the first day that I heard the cicadas in Japan since coming here just 3 months ago.
My friends and I walked to the cemetery, and then off into the small forest that lay beyond the field there. We saw a figure with a flashlight, walking carefully, his light tracing frenetic circles on the earth around him. We weren't sure what to make of him, but we pressed on nevertheless.
Oh, the scent. It was intoxicating. Walking toward the hill in the forest, you never would have known you weren't back home, exploring some abandoned place with your friends a few blocks from your house. We climb the steps and reach the summit, whereupon we reach a paved circular platform, its center empty and full of earth. We were confused for awhile, not sure what it meant.
But I didn't care. We came without lights, and it was difficult to see clearly. I rested my hand on a tree, and it came back sticky with sap. The sap smelled like cloves and carrots - it reminded me also of the white spice drops you find back home. It was so refreshing. I loved the scent of this pine tree, and even more wished that I was home, at least for one day. But I decided I was content with just the scent of being home - I only have a few more weeks here, anyway.
We made our way back and avoided the man, who we know see is a night watchman, and got home safely. It was a wonderful detour from the daily life here that I've become so accustomed to.
Tyler
7:03 AM |
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