Staring up into the Osaka night, I swore this was the furthest I had ever been from home. In an alley filled with broken glass and garbage, my arms filled with light tubes and my face hurting from going into barbed wire. I had $750 worth of Japanese money in my pocket and a bowl full of fish head soup. I had no idea where I was, other than the name of the town, no clue how I would get where I was going next and I had just hit a Japanese kid so many times that he thanked me, forgot that he thanked me and thanked me again.

Looking out onto this sky years later, I miss that night. The mystery, the endless promise that it held. Halfway around the world, where the water swirls backwards, unable to really speak the words but feeling it all in my heart.

Photo - S
Words - S