We all know what it feels like to be stuck and lost. You keep stopping and wondering how you got here, what happened to things that were, who are these people surrounding you, where are you going, why is it all so blurry. Why can't I see what's ahead of me? Why does this moment feel wrong? Why do I feel out of place?
Tokyo is a place of great magnitude, like a swarm of cities gathered together, forming a nest of incalculable possibilities. The vastness might even feel suffocating, like it's a labyrinth you can't escape. It's the perfect place to lose yourself, disassemble yourself, recreate yourself. Tokyo is the city of seekers.
What gets lost in translation is the greyscale, the in-between; that of which us people consist. We are not black nor are we white, and it all comes down to longing for someone to see us in all the shades.
People collide in ways unexpected, and that's the way it ought to be. There are no similar encounters for different individuals. There is no norm for meetings and partings. There are no happy endings because there is no end: We are all, everywhere, always, everything there ever was and will be. The frames of a motion picture are just frames, for the picture goes on forever beyond them, stretches out to infinity. The story never ends.
No comments:
Post a Comment