On the 10th of February I woke up under the world’s thickest doona in a hostel in Kyoto. I stumbled down the ladder of my bunk and drowsily made my way to the window thinking, It would be too good to be true if last night’s dream of a snowy Gion materialised this morning…
As my eyes adjusted to the white flat light of the last throes of a Japanese winter, a broad smile pushed itself out of the dumb earth of my consciousness. The tiniest white flakes were drifting impossibly slowly onto the street and the Kamogawa river below.
I ran down the stairs, hired a bicycle and rode for the first time in 4 years. A slight wobble and sense of earthlessness, like missing the last stair, and I was off and away. I had no idea where I was going, but it didn’t matter because I was there and I was going somewhere.
I need to recapture this feeling.