A Dog and a Mountain

A Writer’s Thoughts and Feelings on a Journey through Honshu, Part 3

I took the train to Inuyama, to a castle that has been here for centuries. In the small streets leading to the two jinja on the foot of the hill my head is restless, jumping back and forth. Sitting in Gifu, I can sense shadows around each corner; sitting in Aichi, I am thinking of spring. The road climbing up to the castle is short, but winding. From atop I can see the green Japanese Rhine. There have been voices in the past that told me that this should remind me of home, but all I wish to notice are the blurry mountain lines in the distance. Every once in a while a jet plane soars through the sky, some of them so loud that it hurts my bones. In such an environment it cannot come as a surprise that most of the trees look dead and only the sunlight reveals the secret of the changing seasons. Sitting in Gifu, I am writing while swaying along a country lane. And whatever it is, I allow it. I cannot filter these thoughts anymore. Too many years I have been bleeding on those empty pages without any lasting results, without any red spoiling the perfect white. I’ve grown sick of it. Reoccurring projectile bleeding from the heart. Until everything inside me has become dry. Until the beautiful struggle ends. I am reminded of that singer I saw last night who so gently played the guitar. For a while her dark eyes cut through my mind. People and things that can’t be reached have become the soil on which these thoughts grow. The sight of a Ferris wheel amongst the hills is jarring, but considering the turmoil in my head it feels vaguely appropriate. The lane I am walking follows the river. Between here and the gardens of Aichi there is little room for clearing my mind of these thoughts, of an asymmetrical smile amidst the dead branches. My fingers look old and dirty when I try to tighten my shoe laces on the way down from the castle hill. I accidentally tear them off on the right side. Things like this seem to happen often. While the ducks are swimming up and down the river, I am thinking how much I would like to see the cherry blossoms fall with you this year. But all I can do as the sun is slowly setting into the valley is to make resolutions for the next day. Tomorrow, I decide, I will sleep a little longer because thinking these disconnected thoughts wears me out.

This is the third text in a series of ten loosely connected pieces.

The second part can be found here: Nagoya

The fourth part can be found here: Nagoya II