Postcard

Dear Tokyo:

It has been two years since I've breathed you in. I want to touch you, smell you, eat you. I recognize every little thing about you...and no thing. The surface is always shifting...a city of illusions, smoke and mirrors.

Coming back here is like falling back into a dream...it's utterly familiar, yet everything concrete slips through my fingers like water, like light.

Did you pine for me? Did you think about me everyday I was away? Are you happy to have me back?