This trip is the first trip I'm not writing a diary. And when I mean writing, I mean noting stupid, literal observations sprinkled around the bits of paper I collect from EVERYWHERE and stick in using a glue stick. I can't let go of the habit of the collecting bits, but I think writing in a blog and on paper is a bit of overkill even for me. Lucky for you, you'll get to read all my deepest and darkest holiday secrets. Like...
On the train from the airport to Osaka, I thought about the winter light, and how it makes everything look different. I don't notice it so much in Australia, but I vividly remember walking around east of the Village in New York one winter, with the muted sun streaming past the semi high rises. It was a magical moment, a nothing moment of just getting from one place to another, but a moment I'll remember forever.
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