distort

once i realised the information i'd been given (that the entire populations of Zimbabwe and 日本 had been switched solely for my upon-arrival confusion) was shot through with fault, everything seemed right here. except that it's all short. i don't mean the people, or that the cars and streets are little—of course, that's all well and true, but i'm confounded by American width and height on a far more daily basis. the thing is: it takes 3/5 of a second maximum to get anywhere. the train ride from the airport flew by, especially from Ikebukuro to Higashi Kurume. the distance from our house to the "source" of our river is traversed in about 2 bounds; from CAJ to Mister Donuts is over before you have time to glance in the street mirror. it's all very strange because, you see, i am neither bigger nor longer than i was 4—or 10—years ago. and, as mentioned, it has nothing to do with size, only distance. and, no, i'm not any faster. even the fact that a tiny shrub in our "yard" has sprouted into a towering pine that will soon consume the laundry porch is more a matter of velocity than size. a mystery of units....

back at CAJ yesterday. obviously i've surmounted all sorts of self-consciousness because, although i barely realised it until my stylish father commented that i'm not "always dressed like this," stopped over during morning break in my running clothes (aka his startle-red wool/cotton long underwear, although i could have been clad in a t-shirt, it being a downright balmy 10.° to think that i set out with neon stretchy gloves to light my way). trying my best not to interrupt, peered impishly through classroom windows. it's all the same, physically, even while, demographically, i don't know anyone anymore: even the scamps i used to babysit are all grown.

the comprehension's still here, for which i suppose i'm thankful, but i just babble away in That Language when spoken to. should be glad that Junko-sensei's sister studied Russian lit and worked in Moldova—but, really now, that doesn't help anything. at least i still know my numbers (and which variety to use for which size/shape/purpose object) without having to think.

there's no place like home...in which to be loud. no one believes it of me, except my family.