osaka

I remember when you used to visit the corner shop, drifting from aisle to aisle, inspecting each eclectic curio with relish. Not one hand-painted porcelain piece escaped your attention, and as I watched you in your trance, I wished you paid as much attention to me as you afforded those trinkets.

I remember when you walked the entire tenjinbashi-suji and float in and out of the shops, accumulating paper bags and mystery boxes. You seem to ignore everything else around you, neglecting the past, oblivious to the future.

I remember you that warm winter morning. 

Crystal.

Like the river that ran along your house.

Our house. Yours a lifetime ago. Mine now.