Slow, slow friday

…and Im tired.
Trying to close my eyes. Trying to fall a sleep for second. To relax, to take a breath. Emptiness is surrounding. There is nothing to do. Nothing to worry. Nothing to rush. Just a slight willingness to sleep. Only for a moment.

Suddenly – again – I capture a memory. The music is flowing through the air. The same music, I used to play in Koenji, night after night. But not again. This time I just miss. I miss the people I left behind.

And without further thinking, I open my eyes. There it is, on my table. Tokion Creativity Now. A brand new magazine from the scraced old town. From the smallest town of the Earth. From the town, I would like to be again.