- measure me in metered lines and one decisive stare -

There's nothing quite like going to Tokyo Station and just... sitting and people watching to reassure you that despite satellites and the Internet and trains breaking 300 kph that the world remains a massive and wonderfully dynamic place. A thousand protagonists to a thousand different stories have walked past me; some notice me, most do not - some stand out, others blend in.

There was a kid with spiky hair and a bright red bag who stood in a way that practically begged to be drawn, there was a young woman in ruffly white who was so pale and ephemeral that her Coach bag seemed the most solid thing about her. There are my pillar-mates - the cowboy with his boots (heels and all) and brutally short hair, there's the quiet businessman who hasn't got off his cell phone (or said a word) in the past ten minutes.

I could write an essay on the shoes alone, or how the echo and boom of the trains below shake the station like clockwork earthquakes.

I could probably write a thousand essays and not scratch the surface of this bustling, bowing, enigmatic city - but this will have to suffice for now.

♥


circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty
armed with every precious failure
(and amateur cartography)
I'm breathing deep before
I spread those maps out on my bedroom floor
(and I'm leaning on this broken fence
between past and present tense)

- the weakerthans, 'aside'
(...I just like the ring of it)