As I was filling in my paperwork for my reentry into Japan two days ago, I realized that I am now over the half-way point of my time here. It was a strange feeling.
Sometimes it is very difficult to live here. I've become familiar with the absence of those I love and care about. An acceptance that others' lives continue without me, that I continue without them.
And I've become familiar with the feeling of living between lives, in a space that may or may not exist. Perhaps life is infinitely broken into hiatuses, rebirths and beginnings, but I think this one will stand out in space and time, set apart in some way. I often think that I live in the afterlife in Japan, a place of peace and detachment from the rest of the world.
It has been an experiment in patience, in the suspension of space and time. How long can someone or something–an ideal, a love, a passion–stay afloat? Perhaps some are infinite, the phrase and breath of life.
And yet even this experience is marked by time. In this life, in this world, there are beginnings and endings. What goes on forever?
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