Mare Pacificum, ad infinitum.

I can see him. I can see daylight while I'm immersed in darkness. His soft voice comes to me with little delay, assuring me there is nothing to be scared of.

Time feels like an endless ocean, us standing on opposite shores; but with every tick of the clock a grain of sand comes afloat, and peninsulas begin to grow like steady branches on a soft horizontal tree. We stand facing each other, eyes closed, breathing in the salty wind whose wild dance is only the prelude to a memory. The beaches surrounding either side remain unexplored, enticing, but we know they could never be as interesting as they would be if they let two pairs of footprints fade into the water.

One day, when we least expect it, the marine scent will be replaced by that of fresh grass, and we'll walk into an isthmus in the midst of which we are to run into each other's arms, into the promise of a vast horizon to leave behind.

I can see him, but I can't. And I wish I could build that seemingly impossible strip of land with my own bare hands.

I Love the Winter Weather

It's almost February.

According to my experience, February is the coldest month of the year. January is also very cold.

Where are my gloves? ... One pair is still unpacked, one is lying in some bag, and one is hanging from my wall.

Where are my hats? ... Conveniently placed on top of the bookshelf, along with small empty boxes and a summer hat.

Where are my winter boots? ... Beside the newer ones. I wear them sometimes.

What's happening to our planet? Why are cherry trees blooming, why are bears not sleeping?

The weather is so lovely, so similar to an average Bogotá morning, it is scary. I feel guilty for enjoying it this much, I feel guilty for the smile that bursts out the moment I come out into the morning sun. Am I supposed to be feeling at home so far away from home? I don't think so.

Maybe it'll finally get bad in February. If so, I'll be somewhat relieved to curse a sun under which my numb hands find no warm comfort.

El balcón

My first video, using iMovie. It was left unfinished until today, when I added the final touches. Quite simple, yet very meaningful to me. I hope you enjoy it.



If you ask why this is the first, and not "Olavia Kite se aburre", well... it's because I left this unfinished a long, long time ago.

Döner Kebab

Today the guy who sells döner kebabs in front of Gap Shinjuku told me I'm beautiful. "Especially your eyes," he said.

It's the first time anyone tells me such a thing since I've been here in Japan. It's no surprise that a foreigner said it.

Damocles Goes to School

La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

After a couple of bearable flights, New Year at the Miami Airport, and 13 hours of naps and snacks somewhere on the stratosphere, I'm back in Tokyo. My room is a complete mess and homework's not yet done, but I'm not planning to solve any of these two issues anytime soon.

So what are the results from this unexpected trip to my homeland?

1. The 16MB SD card that came with my digital camera mysteriously disappeared. I'm glad it's that one and not the 2GB one I bought recently. *Update: as I'm writing this, I stick my hand in a forgotten pocket of one of my multiple bags, and voilà!*
   
2. I left my contact lens provisions for one year at home, which means I'll have to buy lenses here. Fortunately, they're not that expensive.
   
3. I got a weird haircut. If you're mean enough you can say I look like Edna Mode.
   
4. I met a Canadian guy who lives in Yukon and does dogsledding. I loved the accent. Great company for a lonely New Year; you never know where you'll meet interesting people.
   
5. Love proved to have survived distance and time. This one is very important!
6. I've fallen into this desperate need to write. Things in my mind must be sorted out one way or another, and believe me, there is so much stirring up in here right now.
   

Et cetera.

This morning I wanted to sing, but then I remembered I don't have a guitar in Japan, so I promised myself I'd go to Ochanomizu as soon as I settle down at my new residence. That is if I don't get sent home in April. Could anyone move this sword away from my poor little head? I'm tired of adding "... if I don't get sent home in April" to each and every sentence I utter or write. One more thing calling for written relief.