The cicadas are starting. They're late but it's understandable. The rainy season keeps going and the air just can't get as hot as it usually is by this time in the summer. This is by no means a complaint. The only sad thing about this is that I have a little less material with which to empathize with strangers. It isn't really hot. And it isn't really cold. And beyond that, what is there to be said? We aren't suffering enough. But I can hear the cicadas beginning to begin. In the early morning they start and then take a break. In the evening they are singing before they sleep. Before I leave, I imagine that they will have acquired their full potential and send me off in true Japanese summer fashion. I don't have much left of it.