ataori: (fly like paper:)
 Sometimes I forget how far I've come, when recalling all of the wonderful things I've seen in my days as a younger child. Great stone formations in China, green-tinged rivers set in stone, carrying flower petals downstream, red bridges, dragons eyes, the sound of traffic, a maze of cars, crying out for my family in supermarkets and city centres, treks through forests and unkept promises of ponies, one-of-a-kind views in the morning accompanied by sunny-side-up eggs, holding hands with friends and climbing up giant statues... these are only a few of the great memories I hold within my heart. They are all there, I know it-- at least I'd like to, because I do not ever want to forget.

A song came up today; Joe Hisaishi's "Summer" from the film Kikujiro. I was pleasantly surprised by my abilities to recognize a song that meant so much to me in my younger days, alongside my slow but sure improvement in reading hangul. The story of "Kikujiro no Natsu" goes something like this; a boy finds a photograph of his mother, someone he's never known, and her current home address, and decides (on his own) to go searching for him. Before he leaves, he meets his neighbor and his wife, a sour man who equips a scowl and crosses his arms often. Kikujiro-ojisan wears button downs and slacks and is definitely not cut out for a month-long babysitting job. His wife puts him up to it anyways. And so off they go, to find young Matsuo's mother, but things are not as they seem, and they return home empty-handed... or, perhaps, not as unfulfilled as we assume they may be? 

Truly a profound film with a firm, quiet, sad, between unsettling and not message. I remember watching it once with my mother, wondering if she understood it, because I definitely didn't. It wasn't a film for a kid my age, at the pinnacle of my years before transcending into teenager-dom. Still too young, but I thought I was already so big. I'd like to see it again. Maybe then it'll stand out to me in the way that it meant to; fully, completely, itself, with me understanding, finally, after a long time. 

I've been suffering from a lack of inspiration... I see emotions, I feel for others, but I haven't really felt that much within myself. It's been a while since I've stirred with excitement for another, since my heart ached for someone else's loss, since my fingers burned and tingled with love and passion and excitement and confusion. What is this? It feels somewhat like... impotency, if I'm being over-dramatically honest, haha. I wonder... when will it go away... I know for one that I'd really like to feel something again... 

It's been awhile. I'm on summer holidays, waiting for the humid heat to transform into a plane ticket back to time and fallen leaves. Then this trip will just be another visit home, another fragment of the past... I wish it was easier to live in the present, to come back to this present, that now, after a second, has suddenly become the past... with each letter I press, I am writing alongside time, I am making history, to some extent...?

Huh... I just want to feel again. Any advice? On finding one's heartburn... I am currently lacking in that department, I think...

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