Japan

The first step on this soil, heavy with time,
I sink into the earth—rooted, yet drifting.
A whisper from the mountains, a pull from the sea,
The air tastes old, yet new—each breath, a prayer.

​

Streets hum beneath my feet,
A quiet rhythm, ancient yet unwritten,
Not for tourists, nor for those who stay,
But for the ones who come seeking silence.

​

I pass under gates, not to enter,
But to acknowledge what has always been.
The weight of history does not press,
But it lingers, an echo in every stone, every tree.

​

The city speaks in muted tones—
No rush, no hurry, only moments
That stretch long as the shadow of a temple,
Where the sacred does not shout, but waits.

In this land, I am both lost and found,
A pilgrim not searching for answers,
But for the quiet in between,
Where the past and present are not separate,
But always, always together.

Here are some of my favourite characters from the journey.