"In an ideal world, what do you want to do?"
You asked me the night when we met for a 'quick' drink - which turned out to be a pretty long drink of three hours plus, at a bar I like in Shinjuku.
I was pondering your question.
I looked at the clock facing us - my favorite clock that turned red, green, yellow like a rainbow cake that night - "Travel with you."
That's what I wanted to do.
I looked up and said: "Go travelling for a long time."
That's true, too.
We talked about where I would like to go, and for how long.
When I was younger, I had this dream of what I'd like to do in future. Somehow, I always thought I had to wait until I'm a certain age. Why? I don't know.
Now, I've grown up, and old enough to make choices in my life. The question stays. Why?
In my previous world, planning is mandatory. I liked to know ahead of time what to do, where to go, and how I lived. I felt comfortable when things were certain.
But as my life has turned to be nothing but certain. I dropped the whole concept of planning, just like that. No matter how much I wish life to be more or less the same, it's just not that.
A monk once told me: When you miss someone, tell them now. You never know when you'll have the chance again. We only have now.
I looked at the beautiful dark sky above us, drinking some delicious Highballs with you, feeling the softness of the birthday gift you gave me, watching you speak with your childish smile. A thought appeared in my mind: Life is enough.
We can't ask for too much, when we have now.
