On that fateful Friday morning, I was south of Tokyo, in the seaside resort town of Atami, sitting by the balcony of the hotel we were renting, watching, almost crying at how simple yet arresting it was to be swallowed by a beautiful sunrise. It was one of those soft mornings, so soft in fact that I feel I'm dense and drowning to its sublimities whenever I remember.
I took a shot, three times, thinking I won't find the use of that memory someday but only in little photographs for this blog. Little did I know, with the turn of events later that afternoon, that that sunrise is the only memory I want to remain and remember out of the many unforgettable things that happened that Friday.
My heart goes out to Nihon. I can't help but cry a bit inside every time I see the raging waters surging quaint little towns up north. It kills me like a thousand heart break every time. It wrenches me but at the same time strengthens my love for this country even more, and in the hope that it would stand back stronger after all of this.
If you are following this blog, take a minute of silence, whisper a short prayer to your God, to whatever is bigger than you, and ask for relief over this country we all love. What Japan needs now is our comfort.
In a more practical level, if you cannot find anyway to give your donations, I encourage you to buy something made in Japan one of these days, even something as little as Japanese toys or t-shirts or manga magazine which are being sold in your country. It may not serve any direct purpose or may sound silly amids all of this, but in the long run, may take a little burden to the adverse effects of this disaster.
Thank you for your well wishes. I felt all of them across our oceans.
PS. We all need saving by Jon Mclaughlin was playing on my earphones while I took the photos of that sunrise. I know, it was heartbreakingly coincidental.