I can't count how many red hearts there are within my sight as I sit at my desk, the stage of my thoughts. But one red heart is dancing along to the movement of strings. And these strings happen to mirror the seismic wave lines of the aftershock in Japan's waters.
I feel like the quake's effect has reached me all the way even here, and shaken my nerves down. Everything I see reminds me of Japan as my second home, from neoprint cubes of colourful bursts and Kawaii poses (プリクラ) hiding in the contours of my wallet, plushie trophies won in taito game station pilgrimmages, a lego heart a boy gave me from palette town お台場 (where Tokyo Bay has met with direct repercussions), to dictionaries of advanced Japanese grammar that served as my pillows during 期末試験, iphone recordings of my 対人関係の心理 Psychology prof 清水先生 and his bullet train deliveries, down to the very heartwarming kodak shots of kinship I had there.
But most importantly, that's my own city of love and shelter, where I grew under its nurture and found a chance at happiness. And I can't bear to see its tethers challenged by nature on a warpath.