A matter of recurrent unfamiliarity.
The first time I jumped on a flight by myself to go to the other side of the world, I went to Tokyo. This was a while ago, for no other reason than just experience it.
Over the years, through its turns, life took me back to Japan a number of times. Tokyo always acted as the first or last stop in my journey. Sometimes both. It became part of a pattern and a routine I longed for.
This is an elegy to a place I displaced.
