A smooth and cool Tokyo night

The night air was smooth and cool for once in Tokyo. I escaped an 8-10pm client meeting to have dinner with a French-speaking crowd. The expats here are a curious bunch. By far the French-speaking bunch seem to outnumber everybody else. And those in education and arts seems slightly better than the finance people who never grew out of their frat-boy selves. Still, there's this seediness that lurk behind every one of them. The difference is that some of them are soul-less, and some of them have a soul that is troubled. The similarity might be a contempt for and misunderstanding of Asian culture.

Nonetheless, on such a night, one where one could actually enjoy the night and feel a certain peacefulness, it was nice to get out of the office and see the people, whoever or whatever they are.

The unbearable loneliness of being

I open the door.
It is dark to the core.
I thought: "light," and there was light
I thought: "sound," and there was sound.
I undress, and open a can of beer.
I am the queen of my domain,
I may do as I wish.
Free as the fleeting rain.
Nothing binds me to the world.

The skyline in my window is filled with dots of flashing red.
The purple azalea in the vase is lingering on-
half withered, half blooming.
All is quiet on this cool Tokyo night.

The unbearable loneliness of being.

Magical Ark Hills

Around my office, there's a place called Ark Hills where I often go to get some lunch. Today, I realized that it is not just a place that can fill my stomach with food, but also a place that fills my soul with wonder (for an interesting discussion on soul, please see David Brooks's column). Even though it has only been a week since I have been there, a beautiful rose garden, ala medieval European palacial style, magically appeared in the square.

Magic is in the air in Tokyo, along with a torrent of rain and the sperm-like scent of spring vegetation.