...and if the night, and the atmosphere, and the conversation could be described i would call it... effervescent ;)
In a comfortable, cozy sort of way.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
coffee, cranes and cookies
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One thing I remember most about the tornado was the cranes. How the cranes hung beautifully. Wings spread wide. Necks erect. Sometimes they would fly left. Other times right. Sometimes they would simply jiggle in place. But either way, they moved by the book. And I was hypnotized.
It was, in a way, like us that night. We were the only cranes amidst the tornado. She and I. Me and her. The Italian mug she likes to hug. And, of course, the Almost Famous cookies. We had all we needed. The tornado simply stirred us into a perfect blend. Blended us to perfection. We were their specialty. The Tornado Blend.
So as predictable as it was, the night was too short. In fact, the only predictable thing between the two cranes was that the nights–and presumably the days, too—are always too short to last. Time flies. And so did they, migrating Eastwards where they were to part till Christmas time. Now, the parting bit was quite funny. One of the cranes did not want to part, and the thought of faking a faint at the beautiful crane’s nest came to his mind. Several times. Until he realized how silly it would be had he done so. –I’d probably leave you faint and sleep at the porch, she said. I knew she was only kidding. …Or perhaps not. But come to think of it, there was, at that time, only one way to find out. I wish I had realized that that was a challenge. And challenges to me are irresistible. Just as she was …irresistible.
So there it was the night of rambling. –Rambling is all we’ve been doing all night, she said. Come to think of it, the crane is right. She had been rambling of this and that, accentuated by the full gestures of her body which she does perfectly by the book. My, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s displaying the mating dance …vocalizing, leaping in the air, and occasionally flapping her wings vigorously.
Yes. She is. She’s doing the mating dance …for me.
Little did we know, that the crane fold symbolizes good luck. And the tornado was the testimony of its magic.
--Where I end and You Begin--
Tokyo Friends School, 16th February 2000
Spring.. Sakura.. Tamachi station...
Their names were.. Hinako..and Sayuri..
after that..
lunch.. my onigiri.. hina's melon pan.. sayuri's tamago ryory.. school bench.. girls talk.. brazilian boyfriends.. summer.. bon odori.. yukata.. fall.. the shrines.. snow.. misia.. pumpkin cake..
Hinako, Sayuri n I..
Shinjuku Station, February 3rd 2001..
She gave these red cranes... for farewell.. for luck.. for strenght.. for friendship.. for love.. for another bow..
then warmed-tight hug.. tears.. and all the sweet memories occured..
FHUI, Januari 21st 2003
I learnt.. how those red cranes really help me through the years..
then I made the purple one to my best friend on her birthday.. so she could learn.. like I learnt..
My room, December 11th 2004
She lost the purple.. I asked her what colour the next cranes would be.. then she wanted the white..
washi paper.. the strings.. origami.. and the cranes.. the hopes.. my hope.. her hope..
Dad's cubical, 16 December 2004
Red cranes.. White cranes..
mmmm...
I wish She, He, They, We, and I not only learn for friendship.. for love.. for trust..
but also for dedication.. for sincereness.. for strenght........
itsu demo minna gambatte kudasai..
kore kara mo taihen na miji ga aru kara, sore de, ki wo sukette..
watashi mo gambarimasu..
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