(no subject)
No idea why I pulled up one of my ancient Papuwa fics this afternoon, written nearly 20 years ago in Japan and never reformatted out of word perfect. I know I was lonely and sniffly a lot in Tokyo, but I'd forgotten how that got written large into my characters' chronic longing for whichever other character it was that didn't love them back.
The hardness and the brightness and the plain
Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can’t come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.
(The psychic gestalt of Me-in-Tokyo is as much a place as the physical city, and a very odd place indeed when viewed from here. Thrilling and amazing at times, but it weirds me out when I visit it again by chance.)
The hardness and the brightness and the plain
Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can’t come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.
(The psychic gestalt of Me-in-Tokyo is as much a place as the physical city, and a very odd place indeed when viewed from here. Thrilling and amazing at times, but it weirds me out when I visit it again by chance.)