Dotonbori: 8pm. It's loud, bright, and heaving with people. It leaves us feeling more alive than we have in years. Holed up in a dimly lit izakaya, we drink beer and sake. We eat like kings. I steal one of his cigarettes and he decides then and there to quit. We talk about love, and heartache. We talk for hours. And then we emerge, back into the lights, and the heartache is forgotten. We are separate from the world. I hold his hand. Walking feels like dancing.