A well-hidden bookshop/cafe in Hiroshima has menues handwritten on poems and book pages. I love this place.
My rommatte Melissa bought a special pen last week. Now we keep writing random messages to each other on our bathroom mirror.
Looking over the majority of the past photos taken by me has made me realize something: they are all almost exclusively of food only or friends in restaurants. Because I don’t have a real home at the moment but live in a rented apartment in Japan without a real kitchen eating out a lot is the easiest way to go. However, by only looking at photos from my camera you would receive the wrong impression that all I do now days is going out to eat dinner. My days and nights are jam packed without a minute to spare, unlikely the memory card on my camera that gasps empty.
I think the issue is that Japan has become normalized for me.
Undefinable characters on billboards, shopkeepers who keep talking to you in Japanese and street crossings the size of busterminals, have all become a norm of my everyday life. This is where I live now. This is my new home. And therefore, taking photos of this does not feel like travel writing anymore.
I just came back from two days in one of the most vibrant cities in Japan and I spent two long days carrying around on a brown leather camera bag. My memory card is still half empty. Japan is not anywhere near the culture shook I had been expecting.