There’s a kind of quiet that settles in when you live abroad. Not silence exactly—Tokyo is anything but quiet—but something internal. A stillness. A pause. I felt it often when I lived there. It wasn’t loneliness, not really. More like a soft ache. A kind of melancholia that comes from being somewhere that doesn’t quite belong to you, and yet somehow feels like home.

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風が強く吹いている “Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru”: The literal translation of the title is “the wind is blowing hard”, but you’ll find this title translated in English as “Run with the wind.” Although the theme is long-distance running, which has no connection to my personal world at all, I was soon captivated by the story. One reason is that the characters are all so alive and relatable, and the very Japanese “underdog makes it” theme is one I really like.

In Midnight in Broad Daylight, Pamela Rotner Sakamoto paints a powerful portrait of the Fukuhara family, illustrating their resilience in the face of unimaginable hardship and discrimination during World War II. Their story serves as a poignant reminder of the strength found in family bonds and the enduring spirit of those who face adversity.

I just finished reading Sweet Bean Paste, and I have to admit it made me cry—not in a sad way, but in a profoundly beautiful way. The best books have that power, and this one certainly does.

Continuing last week’s theme, the book "The Lantern of Lost Memories" invited me to think about the memories I might want to relive and take with me on my journey to the afterlife.

In the book, recently deceased souls enter a photo studio where a guide invites them to pick specific photos that represent key moments in their lives, one for every year lived. The pictures then get assembled into a lantern and lighted, so that the souls get to relive their most cherished moments as they move on to the next stage.