tokyo, april 2024

I visited japan for the first time when I was 10 years old.

I remember the doors of the metro closing during rush hour without my feet touching the ground.

I remember trying to memorize the signs for the train station where my aunt used to live and the big fear of getting lost in the city.

I remember being afraid of getting lost but also being fascinated at the same time, feeling super proud when I solved the riddle of which metro to take, walking through the gate, the metro ticket tight in my hand.

I remember the color of my bag that I carried around all the time, filled with tiny colorful souvenirs and admission tickets, weird drinks out of the vending machine and a piece of paper with my aunt’s japanese address on it.

I remember the first time I walked into a hello kitty store, pretty big thing for my 10 year old mini-me back then.

I remember taking the silent and smooth train to yokohama and the soft colors of the harbor there.

I remember crying at the fish market at 5am; I didn’t eat a single piece of fish in my whole life after seeing this.

I remember visiting an old japanese family in the middle of nowhere without electricity and my first tea ceremony - I tried matcha for the first time and found it way too bitter. now I can’t get enough.

I remember the small flat of my aunt, futon beds and the one square meter zen garden.

I remember every piece of furniture being perfectly selected for the tiny living room with the walls made out of paper.