A Lust for Life

Winter is gone. So long and thanks for all the fish.
I have been suffering with this strange type of depression that makes one complain a lot. The problem would not be the complaining itself but the state of self-disgust you thus manage to drive yourself into. It showed mainly in the absolute lack of want to train, which under usual circumstances is `the little engine that could`. The inability to understand this was also somewhat confusing, even though eventually, I gave in and accepted it as the path of the present, rather than accepting the growing debilitating feeling of a questioning mind.
The spring is slowly coming to the Land of The Rising Sun and with it comes the sun and the warmth and wakes not only all the life around, but so it seems, also feeds the life inside of one`s soul and one`s heart grows softer in the sound of the warm spring breeze strolling within your psycho-somatic existence.
I feel like poor old Sarlota, my father`s turtle, who after a long winter sleep pulls her head out and after the four months of darkness is blinded by the happiness of yellow rays of sun.
I bought a pink noren, hanged it in the doorway which now is a little bit pink instead of dark greyish black and so is the living room. Hurray for pink if it signifies life!
There is a sewing machine on the floor of my room, there are pieces of materials and innumerable used tissues and books about knitting lieing around, and also sad slightly unidentifiable victims as the outcomes of my creativity, such as little bunny with yellow eyes and a crooked smile and a fluffy invalid frog.
It is warm because of the constant hot attention of my electric heater and it is warm because it is yellow. Yellow curtains, yellow tatami, yellow cloth hanging in front of the door and even my thoughts are yellow with the colour of the sun and energy whizzing through and around even if it rains.
As of April I shall become a member of the local Shotokan club and as of May 12th I shall indulge in a piggy style fun. I am joining the company of bored Fukuchiyama housewifes in the City Hall to learn pottery.
After those lingering winter months of lonesome darkness I irrevocably feel alive instead of alone.

*thank you Tonysan