I never noticed
how one of your eyes is brown
the other hazel
Three hours into the flight to Tokyo, you wonder what might be outside the window.
a landscape begins to emerge: an island, then a stretch of coastline, a spine of mountains, the furthest of which is clearly a volcanic cone.
you have never seen a landscape so empty, so purely expressive of cold.
Black ocean of ice
see what the night has left scratched
on my windowpane