I like throwing my life into a place where I have no connections or ties. The meaning always follows later.
Deciding to move to Kyoto was also just going with the flow of the moment. I knew no one, nor did I have any sense of the geography. I chose my apartment without even viewing it in person, and a few days later, I was heading there. Shedding my long life in Tokyo, my sudden new life in Kyoto began. The very first café I stepped into in this town where I had washed ashore was "JAZZ SPOT YAMATOYA."

Guided by a glowing blue sign, I turned into a small alleyway and walked deeper inside. A bright red bench for two. Rigorous, upright flower arrangements. Warm light leaking through a small window. It was the very entrance to a beautiful story. I opened the stained-glass door and stepped inside. Classic jazz resonated warmly. The crimson carpet, the speakers rich with character, the piano, the madame tending to the fresh flowers, the dreamlike wallpaper—everything that caught my eye swallowed me up into some bygone era. It felt exactly like time travel.

I took a deep breath, filling myself with the melodies that saturated the space. Sipping a cup of deep, dark coffee, I was whisked away by Chick Corea. With every blink of my eyes, I melted into some unknown place. Beside the madame tending to the flowers, someone was lost in a novel. Someone else was gazing intently at a loved one. Another was staring blankly into space. Everyone had tucked their words away, drifting in a sweet silence. Just by sitting here, I felt myself gradually unraveling into this town.

Several years have passed since then. From time to time, I still open that door and warp to a distant era. Closing my eyes, I ponder the meaning of having thrown my life into this land. Perhaps, bit by bit, it is catching up with me.