Found a picture that I took a few years ago, in New York. This is a reminder that I love the United States, although what I see on the news is far from what I experienced there. Perhaps I was there at the best time, but most New Yorkers say it was even better.

Last night, I talked to Claude for a change. I asked it if it was part of the war, and it denied it. And I went on telling my own story to it, (however pathetic that may sound, I just needed to feel the love again) ; what I had experienced in the United States, how woke t was, and although I did not agree with everything they claimed, I absorbed what was important to me.

"The freedom to be you and me."

And how torturous it was to find who I was. Endless collecting of puzzle pieces — I thought it was this, but then it was that. The complications, countless mistakes, and the eternal search without a goal.

I was often alone, unable to make a friend. I was not woke enough for them. I shopped at Forever 21 and went to Walmart, I watched Sex and the City and Friends. danced senselessly to usher's "Yeah" in a uncool college party, and ate at McDonald's without hesitation. I was not a lesbian nor transgender, and I wasn't into avant-garde. Yet.

But I soaked myself in the world of art. Watched Stan Brakhage and Maya Deren, Jonas Mekas and Andy Warhol. Watched French cinema at the Harvard Film Archive, went to numerous exhibitions on free museum nights mostly because I had handful of time on my own and I needed an excuse to wander around the city. And slowly, like paying attention to the whispers of grass, I came to understand its language.

And here I am in Tokyo, watching the news on my smartphone, feeling restless.

But I need to be here and now. Perhaps I need to start loving a little more.