Before I knew it, I’m now in my eighth year of living in Kyoto.
Hailing from Sapporo, my university days began by leaping into an unfamiliar city where I had no relatives. In this city of Kyoto, there is a place that holds a uniquely distinct presence for me. That place is a shop called "sotlylaisse."

During my first or second year here, I started going there because a senior of mine was working there. What I encountered wasn't just the sheer excitement of the food, but the pure fervor of the people who worked there. They possessed a rock-solid inner compass for what they considered "cool," and that resonated deeply with me. "I want to be like them"—it was an aspiration I had never felt back in Sapporo.

Years have passed since then, and today, people around my own age are running the shop. Since I now split my time between Kyoto and Tokyo, I can't visit as often as before, but I still make sure to go and eat there at least twice a month.

Now that I have reached the same age as those people I used to look up to as the epitome of "cool," I catch myself asking, "Where do I stand now?" Caught up in the rush of daily life, it’s easy to let go of the core values and the raw, initial instincts that matter most to me. sotlylaisse is the place that quietly reminds me of those things I am on the verge of losing sight of.

Just the other day, they hosted a celebration here for my 27th birthday. True to their promise of "getting me drunk until I was foaming at the mouth," they kept pouring, and I ended up sleeping outside for two straight hours. Yet, in the very place I once admired from afar, being surrounded by people who matter to me, sharing laughs and celebrating—I was simply overwhelmed with gratitude.

A place to come home to, one that reminds me of the inner compass I tend to forget. Holding onto that fact, I want to appreciate the self I was up to 26, take pride in the self I will be from 27 onward, and keep striving from this point forward.