They’re telling me autumn/fall in Tokyo isn’t as good this year. Being my first year here (after several years in western Japan) I don’t know. Seems plenty deep, colorful, effulgent, enough to me. I took a few more photos at my Friday Takushoku University today of what the season is offering. However the autumn/fall colors may compare with other years, the days this week have been comic strip blue, the nights velvet and diamond clear dark, and everything resigned, sighing with a smile on its rusty face, to summer’s slow decay.
The alternative: escape, has become an object: whether to stay - in effect, resign – or where to head for. I'm thinking of Portugal, via a few days in London. Warmth, revival, migration, temporary victory. Surely that body soaked in sweat just eight weeks ago wasn’t yours really. It feels like it’s always been chilly; memory alone retains hope of a warm return.
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