Yukiko drives me home after our wine party. I drank
some Sauvignon Blanc from Chile and thought of Latin America. Nao misunderstood
me when I mentioned Christmas and decided to put some Christmas music. But I must
first make it to Halloween, right?
Something hits Yukiko’s car window and we both cry
out. “Stay home tomorrow,” she says. But now I’ve been thinking of biking and
marathons. I open the door and the wind caresses me like it doesn’t want to let
me go. I love the rain and wind of this country. They are possessive and
impatient but they don’t stay long. I rush in my shorts and platforms. They
remind me of long legs running after the New York City subway, hoping to make
it even if it is too late.
I sleep nine hours. I dream of beer, wine and friends
in Japan.
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