(i kind of want you to) read this (and tell me what you think)

There was a time when we enjoyed cup noodles very much. The ones with the rather tall and narrow cups and yellowish wrapper indicating curry flavour. We ate them while sitting on the hardwood corridor. At the end of the corridor, a balcony. Beyond the balcony, a post office with its lights on even during its closing hours. But back to the corridor, here, in this dormitory we enjoyed our cup noodles and the song we loved to play was Inoue Yosui's shonen jidai... I knew well the meaning of the song but never really experienced it for real. I suppose I knew at the time that one day I would long to go back to that day of our eating cup noodles together, but memory is a funny thing, or rather, our being in a time that we knew we would soon come to miss and yet being unable to carry anything to contain the slipping away of time is pitiable, or rather, our effort to even try to contain anything is pitiable. But as always, when one is having the time of one's life, one thinks not of ways to contain it. No, one wouldn't think that. It would spoil it... Had I been thinking so much of containing the moment, I would have lost the moment itself. I would not have noticed the smoke that went up and up past my face as I tasted the noodles and how, so curiously, through the window of my friend's room another window of another friend's room from the other corridor shone through like...

And if you look all over this city at night, you'd find many windows looming brightly and how cozy would it be if I could hover through each of these glass dividers and find out what coziness was happening. Who the characters were. What they were thinking.

S--- writes that she is beginning to think about the future again, about life. Her friends are getting married and having babies and she thinks to herself, "Where exactly does that put me?" And here I am, halfway across the planet, pondering about how my friends are getting married and buying houses and I think to myself, "Where exactly does that put me?" And if S--- were here right now I'd say, "Let's walk and talk." And we'd walk. Perhaps it'd be night so the lampposts would skew my vision of the streets a bit. Soon we'd be tired of walking and one of us (probably me) would suggest that we sit down and rest. We would be overcome by a kind of mysterious fatigue, the kind that doesn't make you sleepy, but rather, it feels like a fog hovering on the back of your head, compounded with this burst of something in your chest, and we'd feel as though we were feeling something way beyond ourselves, that nobody, none of these citizens walking the streets this evening would even come close to having ever felt what we were feeling right now, and we'd feel (but not say) "We're on top of the world." Funny thing is the moment such a phrase is formulated in our minds, we began to laugh at our fickleness and realize, hey, really, we were only two directionless people walking around the city seemingly to be talking, discussing a point, seemingly to be coming closer to a conclusion, seemingly to be resting looking as though we would at any moment get up and keep walking. No. Let's not walk anymore. It's nice here, isn't it? You say. Or I say. Yes, it's quite nice here indeed. Let's sit here until the train station closes and watch poor little souls arrive at the station just as the last train has gone (since there were always bound to be a few of these unlucky souls). But this idea for excitement... How absurd! Let's watch people miss trains so we could miss trains ourselves!? The absurdity. The pretentious thinkingness one puts on amidst a drifty night! But I swear, there must be one god up above who have a sensitivity toward souls like us, and I swear this god is up there somewhere watching this and saying, they are truly truly good kids, but really, this show is getting a bit boring. Next channel.

Dear dear. Let's walk again tomorrow night, shall we? Let's meet here outside the station. And don't think about where we're going to walk or what we're going to talk about. That would defeat the purpose. Ok? See you tomorrow.