finally back from braving the white cotton sea — on my flight home from tokyo i was lucky enough to be assigned a window seat and the view was surreal. staring out the porthole was looking at proof of concept: we taught ourselves how to fly.

i don't have the energy to directly address why that was so important for me to accept but let's just say being in a different city does inexplicable things to the brain. the wonder of travel is that ideally, you have less time to get in your own head: wake up early, see the sights, eat your fill, stumble back to your lodging; exhale. after all, you could be anybody. you aren't anybody.

god. doesn't it irk you how who we are in anonymity often feels like the truest version of ourselves?

when you're sitting alone on the cosmo clock — somewhere close to the summit of rotation — it's easy not to worry about the length of the shadow you cast. the whole ride takes about fifteen minutes, so for those fifteen minutes you get to be a blur of probability. you've just crossed off number nineteen on your clumsily, carelessly-crafted bucketlist; for the moment you are every bit schrödinger's glorious, humble outline.

the tough part is always in embracing a graceful aftermath. the return from liminal spaces and eyes-of-the-storms where choice is a pointless notion to turn over. the doors must open, the wheel's carriage emptied for its next passenger; nothing but indecipherable scrawl on fogged up glass left behind. you alight the metal box and you know the act has defined you in some profound way, but there's nothing you can show anybody to prove this.

(the cat lives! now what?)

all this to say yokohama's toasty 8°C gets you frigid clarity right up until the second it's time to punch back into discernible reality. go figure. so far my genius plan to best the mortal coil amounts to the following five precepts: brush before bed, take your meds early, drink less caffeine, figure out what you like, invest in more hugging.

[shakes head] [grins self-deprecatingly] totally inspired, i know.

a little sorry to end off on a [pensive acoustic guitar cover] note. i have photos from the trip! i took some neat ones and would like to share them soon. any other week i swear i'd be the type to wage war with melancholy, but for now? 以上です。

p.s. i'd be remiss if i didn't share how upon landing back in manila i finally gave in to reading running on air because i wish i caved earlier. ao3 user eleventy7 somehow just puts it all so succinctly, no? see — "going away is easy. coming home is hard."

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007: forgive me for all the fuzz and rumble. right now 'm just sorta grasping for something to believe in