chasing the fleeting sun

[taken from my notebook]
I'm writing this as the sun sets on the Tama river. A friend from the dorms told me a couple weeks ago that she went running and randomly came upon a big river. Reminding myself that today would be the only sunny day this week, I decided to venture out and find it. Here were the directions given: follow the train tracks. So i did.

4:30pm
Setting out with my camera, which barely had any battery power, and some apple strudel pastry procured from the convenience store, I followed the train tracks towards the setting sun. My goal was to catch the sunset on the river. The trip itself took longer than expected, and all the while I kept expecting the sun to set before I got there. In my mind I kept yelling "wait, I'm almost there Sun, don't leave without me," as I ventured along the rail line.

Time was of no consequence, so long as I caught the sunset on the river. And as the glimmer of the afternoon rays on apartment buildings began to fade, I finally reached a raised section of green grass. I knew I had made it. The river itself was not breathtaking. The view, mediocre at best. But still, I was calmed by the river's presence. Such a vast amount of space in a city that was never generous with it in the first place. Green grass. Baseball fields, tall buildings in the near distance. And, the sun. I caught up to it just before it called quits for the day.

On the banks of the Tama river, time: unknown
Now, as the sun has all but disappeared, leaving slivers of light to fend for their own and cast their last glimmers on distant buildings, I can finally hear the gentle whisper of this river. No horns, no people, just wind and water - with the occasional rumble of commuter trains in the distance. I never thought it possible, but this city has revealed so many quiet pockets of repose. A soft reminder that not everything in life can, or should be taken, at a blistering pace; a soft reminder that not everything in life is meant to pass you by. This is one of those spots. A man to the left of me is looking out on the river, taking in the view as the breeze becomes more of a cold chill. Despite my Chicago-conditioned, cold-weather prepared mentality, I grow cold. My hands are officially numb now, and my peach drink wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I had intended it to be. On the way back, the one thing that was missing from my mini adventure had finally revealed itself in the last minutes of daylight. Mt. Fuji, its silhouette tracing a soft edge across the pink sky, finally revealed itself.