The sun is slowly sweeping away and being replaced with grey gloomy clouds. The sun which shone fiercely on mine and Barbara’s faces over a week and a half ago as we glided down the Arrashiyama river in Kyoto on a rickety wooden boat has dissapeared behind clouds which threaten to burst on the people scurrying beneath them. Mosquitos are rearing their small alien like bodies in the humid weather and exotic insects are chirping and screeching behind my insect blind on my small balcony. It’s neither hot nor cold but stifling, annoying, wet and clammy. As people wait for the fierce rain to stop pelting from the sky I sit here here in these strange, tropical surroundings, smelling the foreign, damp weather which settles around me, watching the Japanese rush from shop to shop under large transparent umberellas. While the Japanese cope with the common, unispiring annual burden, I look at the rain with awe, amazment and wonder: another reminder that I am no longer at home.
oh lav,
oh, i never called you lav before,
actually we could start a company called livlav, doesn’t sound bad, does it? from livlav, you can create valvil, or lavili, la vili, what-ever.
i loved your post, please keep on writing, wanna know how you’re doing!
lots of lov ya
ps. remember the coffee-theme letter? it worked! i’m going to the 2weeks test end September, yoohu!! thanks to you again.
so?
how are you dear?
lots of lov ya