A tall building. Right in front of the Tokyo Metro station. I crossed the zebra line dragging my suitcase, wearing a long brown coat. Not that cold I remember, but slightly windy. It is dark, almost midnight.
I took the full-glass lift up to thirty-something floor. Lift door opened to a long and dim hallway with dark brown carpet. Spooky. I know I’m staying at the end of the hallway. It is a friend’s place, but this person is not in Tokyo at the moment so I can have it all to myself for a week.
Then I walked across the street and ended up in a shopping mall, went up to fifty-something floor to a ‘sky garden’ food area with loads of restaurants and bars. Walking aimlessly to decide on a place, most of them looks pretty empty. A thin, tall Japanese guy with short ponytail persuaded me into a bar. He has spectacle on him, and a fedora hat. Dark blue shirt, untucked, and a dark denim. I sat by the counter and we chat. Then I saw him going behind the cashier, I thought he was trying to steal. Instead he went on to count money while chatting with me, and he told me he is the owner of the place.
Woke up and wonder:
1) I think I will not go to a bar at fifty-something floor, again. I’m SO afraid of height. Marini’s 57 at KLCC scared the hell out of me.
2) I must be missing Japan.
3) Woke up because…. of a phone call.