From the book Lost in Translation, which features beautiful words without English equivalents. Here’s one of them I particularly like. Though, there’s one thing I wish could be different. I wish the next morning didn’t have the effect of erasure, like the night before didn’t happen. It’s as if, when the sun comes out, we suddenly feel like we exposed too much, that we were too vulnerable, that we lived and loved too much, and so the best solution is to pretend like it never happened. And maybe it is, because maybe we did, in fact, show too much of ourselves (whatever this means to you). I just wonder how we can strike a balance between our night and our day selves, specifically trying to draw out more of the authenticity of emotion and live-in-the-momentness that for whatever reason we feel free to embrace when it’s dark out, during the day.