I remember one afternoon in Little Tokyo well: it was a day of discernment for me, whether to stay or to go, whether to take a risk in order to be happy or be safe and be discontent. I love that place because at two in the afternoon, there are virtually no people around, and I can just sit, and take photos, and think.

So much wonder in the waking world. And so much beauty in a poem:

No. 658
Ono no Komachi

Though I go to you
ceaselessly along dream paths,
the sum of those trysts
is less than a single glimpse
granted in the waking world.


The poem appears as No. 658 in the Kokin Wakashu, an old anthology of poems from the 12th century.

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