6 am in Tokyo
A short and simple story of a morning in Japan
I had no intention of sleeping in. I shuffled around my wooden, dimly lit cubby that had just enough space for a mattress and my small bag.
It was my first morning in Tokyo, Japan, a country I’d dreamed of visiting ever since I was a kid and began to feel an intrinsic connection to the subtle Japanese aesthetic and way of life. It has only burned brighter the older I get.
The shared hostel room had about ten of us, each confined to our bed behind a small curtain. It was 6 am; I had to get out.
I tried my best to be quiet but when I began my descent from my top bunk down each squeaking step, I heard the calm voice of my best friend, Morgan.
“Hey buddy, what’re you doin?” His head popped out from the bottom bunk; he too looked ready with his winter coat already on and his things neatly laid out. I froze when I hear a voice, then smiled.
“I’m heading out; you want to join?”
Of course he did. We didn’t plan this trip for nine and a half months to sleep in the hostel. We stepped outside into the light of fresh dawn and rubbed our faces to awaken them.
We started walking in awe amid the cold December morning. The low buildings of Akasaka were draped in a muted darkness…
