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Asian Babe Pantyhose Bate
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For three weeks now, I havent needed or wanted the counsel of the empty page. Japan has been a warm embrace, a beguiling friend, a show of lights, a geisha bow. Twenty days have felt like two. I didnt need to write because my waking thoughts were deeply invested in Japan.
This country is for me, and may always be, a flash of excitement -- a window seat on a bullet train, time-lapse travel through a time-warped land. Japan is a place that has seemingly reset the properties of time. It moves at a frenetic pace, but stops to idly sip tea. Its a place that hurls eagerly into the future with a velocity unimpeded by the weight of its reverence for the past. It preserves as much as it reinvents.
Japan is a riddle of contradictions. It is as much about Zen, Kabuki, Sumo, and Geisha as it is about Sony, Toyota, and Panasonic. It is a hyper-modern sprawling metropolis; it is Mt. Fuji peering through the clouds over miles and miles of autumn-burnt parklands. It is a maze of metal and glass skyrises; it is a narrow alleyway with wooden homes with dragon-tiled roofs.
Japan is heavy drinking -- sake, whiskey and beer -- but it is also a work ethic that revolutionized the world. It is Sweet Home Alabama crooned karaoke-style; it is a late-night Yakitori snack from 7-11 (or wait--was that just me?) Japan is a public bathhouse where tattooed and fingerless gangsters (yakuza) bathe communally in lavender- and chamomile-scented spas (onsens). I could go on, but put simply Japan is an enchanting amalgam of contrasts, where the juxtaposition of old and new, delicate and bold, revelry and refrain, colors the country brilliant and fires the pulse of its people electric.







