And though the world be silhouette, the definition of thy lines holds more power than any vibrant memory. In each stroke I remember, each molecule of ink I feel. This is no random symmetry, no desperate thought reformed, but all I was and am and wish. Brush strokes on a canvas to you and she and them, but not to me. In silhouette, I remain here: Japan.
Author’s Note: I drew this picture and wrote these words after watching a BBC series on the art of Japan. I wasn’t going to post it, but hope you like it. This piece means more to me than most as it’s a place I dream of someday visiting.