It could have been the other night when I was eating dinner with Yumi and Numa--Vegetarian spaghetti at a lost "Italian" restaurant in Noboritto.

It could have been today when I was riding a lazy 1 'o' clock train discussing life's annoyances with Shinagawa-san--Nanba line, bound for Kawasaki.

It could have been tonight during an okanomiyaki dinner with Reiko--the view from our booth in some Shinjuku loft was spectacular.

It could have been any of those wonderful, unreal times when I had completely forsaken English for hours at a time that I noticed it; but gradually, I have come to the realization that if I truly wanted to, I could abandon the English language entirely, and step into a world that my tongue wasn't built for. Fluent? Not even close--but like one of those slow, churning, pressure building guitar solos, I know that some day soon, fireworks are going to come exploding out of my vocal chords and I will bang my head like some kind of rock star as the crescendo completes; awakening.

When not in the study room with Hisayo, and not on the streets of Shinjuku or Harajuku, pounding the pavement in my Pumas, I'm sleeping. My only desire is to elevate to that little place in the clouds where I can say "I understand you," and mean it.

When I'm not with a Japanese person, I'm alone in my head.

Life here is about one degree from perfect, and it feels so good.