A charcoaled sweetness on the wind. The festival air is different as autumn arrives under a glowing moon.

The chittering of the bugs has changed pitch. The ruffle of latent storms whispers in my ears as I walk along the darkened path home.

An old man in striped pajamas ushers a street cat to his home with shaky hands. I smile and keep walking. At the next corner there’s a black cat standing sentry. It has a pink collar with a bright silver bell. It shies away as I pass. It stops when I murmur a gentle greeting.

The water in the canal— a brackish mix of river and sea— gurgles like the old men I work with at the washroom sink after lunch. It seems louder with nightfall— I wonder if the spirits of other old men gargle in other ports to let you know they’re still around. They’ve just changed forms.

I’m on a quest to get a pack of cheap beer after I meditated my way through an eighty minute session on my exercise bike. I’ve been hitting a thousand active calories— wondering if I can see a difference. I feel one on the days I’m not sleep deprived.

My favorite part outside of it being a common place for me to write stories (which I think is delightfully ludicrous) is way the deluge of sweat feels like an achievement. Being drenched is my favorite part— it makes me feel like I’ve earned a merit badge for taking care of my body.

Even more— it’s the mental reset. The continual refinement of what I think is possible. It’s persistence— something I’m well acquainted with. You can stop— but if you really want what you’re after, you can’t quit.

So I find myself strolling through the slightly busy streets of a Friday night in Izuhara. I ghost among them as I return to my spot on the hill with minimal interaction. I even see my friends at the billiards bar as I walk by. I’m grateful I can say a sentence like that so quickly into living here. I keep walking— knowing that the night is quickly fading for me.

By the time I return home the poetry of the evening has faded. I can no longer hear it’s song— it has delicate wings— never hovering in the same spot for long. My words return to a grumbled mash as I finally sit down.

What will this evening hold for you?