The escapades and misadventures of an American artist in Japan.
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Time seems to move more quickly now. Three years is ten. How did I get here? The connection between points, the space separating beginning and end, the journey, grows dim. Rain on a dirty window. Dusk. There is now. This quickly becomes yesterday. The colors fade as the distance increases. The same train line, the same stops, but everything has changed. Only my head and the direction of travel are the same.