Number 九

by Carson Reynolds

A second month passed in between drawing a breath and exhaling. Daily rituals resumed and rippled my life. Moments pass when I forget how spectacular every scene was to my once unfamiliar self.

After decoding and unmasking the cultural semaphores I find myself socializing as if underwater. Every moment is slowed down and every sound attenuated. Not to say that I am not able to hear or sometimes understand.

A Chopin concert, a Fugu show, and watching Mice Parade through the back of overexcited fans each allowed me (in unevenly sampled continuities) to forget the innumerable things しなければなりません. A trip on the shinkansen to a ridiculously named ski resort allowed me to destroy a rented snowboard with a few jumps and slightly more graceful crashes. Thankfully my very first on-sen was simmering a short stumble away.

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