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Is sadness blue? Can you hear it at Shinjuku station in the heart of Tokyo? Or does it become a leaf in the ginkgo avenue? Does it always hurt? It’s impossible to capture. Because it likes to hide in a song, or warm up when we drink cold coffee from a can. It’s a part of our lives. And according to writer Nanae Aoyoma, it can also be cheering.

Fleeting memories can squeeze me inside. I imagine a small station somewhere in western Tokyo and a girl, Chizu, getting off the Keio Line train. Then she goes to the house right next to the station, where she rents a room from Ginko, an elderly lady. They both sit at a low table. And Chizu starts to cut yokan jelly.

I started cutting the jelly into thin, even slices with a fruit knife. And suddenly, my heart felt lighter. Once I can approach various matters as I do now, calmly and courageously, so that no bitterness remains in my heart, life will be easier for me.

A large piece of chocolate with nuts melts in my mouth. The sun rises slowly. It’s quiet. Only the birds chirp loudly. Finally, I’m in no hurry. I can open a map of Japan and imagine myself on a train, staring out the window to Fuiji mountain.

The Seto Naikai Sea is melancholic. Every now and then, dark green, fluffy hills emerge from it, connected by a kilometer-long white bridge. I’m riding my bike now. The small street is completely covered in golden ginkgo leaves. Perfect weather for being alone. The sound of a bicycle bell triggers a certain sadness. Yes, it travels within me and mixes with new adventures.

“A Perfect Day to be Alone” Nanae Aoyoma. Japanese title is “Hitori Biyori” which means “A Perfect Weather (Day) to be Alone”.

Title photo by Taro Ohtani.