From the New Osaka Hotel’s 13th floor Belle Vue restaurant the sun drops behind the smoke-blue hills. Slowly the threads of gold and orange hanging over a blue-gray world fade into ink and indigo.
Like a great blanket of shibori cloth, pricks of illumination and reflection dot the night.
Tomorrow I will live the day twice: here and not here. Most of it in the long in between. O yasumi nasai, Nippon. O yasumi nasai.