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drops of rain
It`s still raining in Fukuoka. It`s been raining since I came here a week ago. The JAL pilot promised an 8`C ground temperature, but it felt much lower than that when i disembarked from the plane. If I walk too fast, I could feel the numbing cold enter my bones like a spider waiting to sneak upon its prey. and yet if I walk too slow, I know I`d die of pneumonia even before I reach the hotel room.
Today I came in early to work. I wanted to watch the waves of the sea from the window. How carefree those waves, letting themselves be led by the wind, to any direction it chooses to blow.. Do they ever feel lost? Is there such a place as home that they strive to return to? If so, how far are they from that place? Or do they ever care?
Waves, wind, water, when, where, why... The w`s are filling my brain with clutter. I went back to the vending machines.. it`s too early for musings.
Today I came in early to work. I wanted to watch the waves of the sea from the window. How carefree those waves, letting themselves be led by the wind, to any direction it chooses to blow.. Do they ever feel lost? Is there such a place as home that they strive to return to? If so, how far are they from that place? Or do they ever care?
Waves, wind, water, when, where, why... The w`s are filling my brain with clutter. I went back to the vending machines.. it`s too early for musings.
