From Tokyo with love

Memories are always blocked in fearful minds. Just like an antivirus, the brain avoids what can cause it pain. Years go by, and random moments are wiped out systematically, leaving every single day as a white sheet.
A moment arrives, sometimes, in which the present calms down and then we're allowed to look back. The research button attracts our attention once again, and it's so relaxing to find out that nothing was as bad as we thought. I received an email yesterday. It was Shigehiro, my japanese friend lost in the past. This unexpected links bring a new corny hope. He wrote in italian, which reminds me that nine years have passed.
When I've met him, his limited communication in english, followed by prayers in japanese (I guess he was blaming the day he didn't pay attention to his english lessons) reminded us about the whole world of words we could never have in a conversation. Then, I've learned to understand his sight, the movement of his hands, following every single facial expression to get if he was bored in Fontana di Trevi, or how much he missed his girl. We became very good friends and maybe that cultural and linguistic distance, allowed us to be closer. I came back to Colombia, he went back to Tokyo. Now he's back again and it's glad to know that those white sheets were, indeed, a hidden but detailed filed waiting to be opened. Thank you, caro Shige.