A Tokyo oasis

So I woke up and decided that I should get out of my shitty dorm* in exchange for some fresh air, and a new perspective. The heavy curtain renders my room in constant darkness and one can easily lose track of one's sense of time and purpose.

I cycled to Shinjuku Gyoen, a big piece of green space tucked in between the concrete jungle that is Tokyo, where the free screening of environmental movies organized by Reina's internship place was being held for the last day.





The whole park was marvellous to walk in and every step brought me further away from my initial plans, and before long, i parked my ass on the grass, lied down and gave in to procrastination. One hour led to another.



The two hour on the grass was haunted by Emilie Simon's "Désert", its steady downtempo beat rewinding itself again and again sans control.

Oh mon amour, mon coeur est lourd
Je compte les heures je compte les jours
Je voudrais te dessiner dans un désert
Le désert de mon coeur

(My love, my heart is heavy. I count the hours and I count the days. I want to draw you into a desert, into the desert of my heart)

Dans la nuit parfois, le nez à la fenêtre
Je t'attends et je sombre
Dans un désert, dans mon désert, voilà

(Sometimes in the night, I wait by the window. I wait for you and I sink.. into a desert, into my desert)

Dans la nuit parfois, le nez à la fenêtre
J'attendais et je sombre
Jetez au vent mes tristes cendres, voilà

(Sometimes in the night, I wait by the window. I have waited for you and i sunk... Throw into the wind, my sad ashes)



That was the perfect melancholic song to offset the perfect weather, perfect turf, perfect breeze, perfect autumn scent in the air, the perfect oasis in parched Tokyo, and its the perfect song for waiting.

There is something about the greyness of Tokyo that offsets my balance: the lack of trees, the not-tastefully-designed buildings apart from the selected few iconic ones, the neon overdose, the onslaught of people yelling into PA systems 24/7, the army of black-suited salarimans during rush hour, traces of vomit on the streets of Shibuya. There is supposed to be no paradise here.

"Désert" is the perfect offset to this beautiful illusion. Désert is the balancing equation.




* Refer to the 'City Wok" joke in South Park!