More cleaning and unboxing. More tedious walking back and forth, from box to box, between one room and another. All in an effort to make this sterile new apartment our home. Eventually, Yukari and I grew weary of the boxes and piles of clothes and rubbish strewn about, and we decided to explore the surrounding area.
Fatigue plagued our bodies and minds—but it was not just us. Rather, the day itself felt sluggish. The sun’s light was almost oppressive; the very air heavy and thick with the deafening cacophony of the cicadas.
Yet we walked.
We walked from a shrine littered with the crispy husks of the aforementioned insects, through an astonishingly quiet suburban neighbourhood, to an impressive temple with a vast cemetery.
We then walked until we reached a station flanked by old shops and a green hillside shrine. And we walked some more, past Shinagawa Aquarium, to a beautiful little body of water whereby numerous couples sat holding hands and staring at their smartphones.
We walked uphill and downhill, through street and through alley. We walked until our soaking shirts clung desperately to our backs. We walked until our feet swam in our shoes and our legs melted into the warm pavement. We walked until we could walk no more.
Ota ward and nearby Shinagawa were no longer a mystery; they were home.
It was a good day.