Thursday, April 3, 2008

She would plan her schedule at least a week in advance, so that her days off work were well-spent. Her agenda was written in different colored pens, of people she was meeting and places she was exploring.

He hated it.

"I'm not sure. We'll see."
"I'm the kind of guy who decides the day before."

She liked looking online for new restaurants to eat at, checking reviews, budget, location and what-nots. Tokyo has an infinite number of eateries and she wanted to make sure she got her money's worth.

He hated it.

"Why can't we just walk around and see if we find something?"
"Isn't it a little expensive?"

She had a habit of listening to a single song over and over again until the song became poignant and defined a certain moment for her.

He hated it.

"Oh c'mon. Again?"
"Don't you ever get sick of this?"

She will remember how Otsuka Ai played from a cheap radio as they strolled hand-in-hand in Ueno Park. It was a gorgeous day and a perfect date.

But one day she woke up and realized they were friends who became strangers. Two random people who just happened to be in the same place at the same time, and otherwise they might not have anything else in common at all.

How ironic that it should end at the start of spring, her first hanami. The Japanese revered the cherry blossoms because of their ephemeralness, blooming for a brief period before falling at the height of their beauty.

How can joy exist without sadness?

"She had loved him, uselessly. This was the painful thing: that she had been so wrong about him. That she was capable, once, of such abject self-deception. Or still is, because in some way she still misses him; him, or her own mistaken adoration."

- An excerpt from The Bog Man by Magaret Atwood

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Female. Singaporean
Traveller. Bookworm.
Coffee Addict.
Amateur Photographer.
Wannabe Fashionista.
Museum Geek.

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