Today, I walked for the first time alone in Busan. And I remembered how foolish I feel when I have no words. And I recalled how strange it is to see people preparing to go off to war. And I experienced a mixture of strange stares and unimaginable patience.

This note was several days ago. In the midst of just getting my feet wet and just remembering how to say the simplest of phrases, I am now preparing to jet set off to Vietnam for less days than I’ll know what to do with, then back for a brief moment. Maybe by then, Busan will feel familiar. Wouldn’t that be a breath of fresh air.

Tokyo, you wait for me. You and your words and your culture that I comprehend. You and your kanji that I can read and your trains I know by memory. You and your beauty.

I will leave you, too, soon. And I am so sad.

I cannot believe it is less than two weeks.

But I will be in Hawaii, the tropical bastian of my birth and the beginning of my dreams and the spark of my world.

I am a mixture of excitement and sorrrow. As always.