Last night, driving through the rain-drenched streets of Tokyo, I wondered if this was the beginning of the end. Lives spiralling out of control have a way of creating forewarnings. I am tired and listless. This is the fourth city I have been in five days. Two days ago, I sat in a hotel room in a London suburb and watched traffic on the highway on a foggy and slightly chilly yet-not-summer night, the ame thought had occured to me. It was still daylight at 10 PM.
But it is hot and muggy here and the nights are short.
Tokyo looks brooding and overcast. May be it is reflecting how I feel. I don't feel like writing much these days. Words have deserted me. There are happy days though. Sitting on a bright green meadow and I looked up at a spindley tower on a sunny day earlier this week and had smiled happily. It was chilly but sunny. There were jugglers practicing their craft and students reading under the suns. Why can't I have more days like that?
Rain is following me these days. In every country. Perhaps I am a messenger for climate change, tracking it from country to country.
In a few days, I will be in the US, and rain is forecast there as well.
The Gods must be crying. For me.
