But I don't know much about classic cars
But I got a lot of friends talking classic cars
Down set, one, hut, hut, hike
Media, please
Let's hear it for America's sweethearts
But I must confess
I'm in love with my own sins
Let's hear it for America's sweethearts
But I must confess
I'm in love with my own sins
A lover and a hater.
Artistically demanding and color-deprived at the same time,
Red seems to be the only color that exists in her world.
Let's paint the town red, madamemoiselle.
Also, note: Please be sure to read the disclaimer before reading my entries. It's important.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009 at 8:01 AM
Tanabata.
Tanabata is known as the Japanese Star Festival. Here is a little tale about a boy and a girl who decided to make a star festival of their own.
Even though it wasn't the evening of the 7th, we had our own little Tanabata.
[( ﾟ ヮﾟ )] "Could you put on your yukata now? Pleeeaaase?"
[(ﾟд ﾟ )] "Wha-? Okay... I hope I remember how to wear it."
"Yay! Wait for me by the lawn, okay?" （･∀･ )つ
┐('～`； )┌ "Okay!"
I struggle with my yukata and eventually find my way outside. I sit on the cold steps and look up at the moon. It's big and bright, framed by thick white clouds that form a sort of smoky halo. I marvel at how pretty it looks, but I can't see any stars and worry that it might rain. I hear footsteps, turn around and see him wearing a white keikogi.
"Oh, there you are! Remember when I showed you the link to my block's wishlist journal? One of my blockmates gave me something from my list, and I'm really happy I got it."
Smiling, he holds out a pack of sparklers. He says he asked for them because he still remembers the last time he saw me wearing my yukata. And he wanted us to have our own little Tanabata (Japanese star festival) if only so he could see me in it again.
"It's too bad it's cloudy tonight, though. A star festival with no stars. Ah well, the sparklers can be our own little stars."
Then he brings out colored strips of paper and markers, for us to write down our wishes. I finish earlier and watch him. He flashes me a silly grin, hides his paper from me and continues to write until he signs it. We decide not to hang our tanzaku on bamboo anymore, and instead give them to each other.
We fumble around with the lighter, but eventually manage to light up the sparklers. We just sit there, enjoying the cold night air while talking, laughing, tracing out drawings with the little fireworks.
I hold my last sparkler up against the inky darkness, and when it stops flickering, I realize that I'm looking at a sky full of stars. The thick white clouds from earlier had disappeared completely.
"Hey, look... The stars..."
He takes my hand, and I'm rendered incapable of finishing my sentence. We feel as if the heavens opened up just for us.
