Today, the rain poured down so heavily I could barely see outside the windows. There wasn’t much more to do other than lie in bed and read. My favourite days are very often rainy Sundays, doing nothing. It got me thinking of all the places I’ve lived, all the windows I’ve looked out, all the times I’ve called a place home.
The last shot is of my current apartment in Osaka, the one I won’t be able to call home in a few months. I took that photo two weeks after I moved in, and it looks different now; the carpet and pillows have changed, there is a record player, masks from Japan, Borneo and Sri Lanka have been added, the stack of books handed down from one ex-pat to another has grown exponentially. It is, almost more so than any place I’ve lived in the past eight years, a place I really love, and a place I’ll sorely miss.