It’s the last night in Kyoto.
There’s only joy, no sorrow for the end of my time here. Even though I shall miss the peace that comes with staying here, I can’t help feeling as though the time should be at an end.
As though it might be possible to overindulge in Kyoto. In the scent of ozone that lingers long after the rain has fallen, the vibrant pinks and purples of the blossoms on the blossoms and the glistening koi that lazily swim down the canals.
I have recharged myself. Reset my psyche.
Tokyo beckons, with cats and tea and gyoza calling my name.
There’s an excitement to Tokyo that is not to be found here. Kyoto is the beautiful companion to Tokyo’s lively, excitable facade. Kyoto is the older sibling that has had all of that pass, timelessness is more important now.
Kyoto is the 300 year old tea shop that teaches you how to make gyokuro in the manner that it’s been made for centuries. Tokyo is the copper plated tea shop that roasts their own hojicha.
I shall forget the worry at the many people who invaded my space, who walked in front of me, who crowded me in a small space surrounded by red torii. I shall forget the things that made me anxious because there are so many other things to grab my attention. Shiny things are a distraction.
I shall miss the flowers here. The calm. The tranquility. The moments.
I shall miss the intimacy.