Dear Tokyo:
It has been two years since I’ve breathed you in. I want to touch you, smell you, eat you. I recognize every little thing about you…and no thing. The surface is always shifting…a city of illusions, smoke and mirrors.
Coming back here is like falling back into a dream…it’s utterly familiar, yet everything concrete slips through my fingers like water, like light.
Did you pine for me? Did you think about me everyday I was away? Are you happy to have me back?
