May 19, 2019 (Tokyo)

Tokyo is such a powerful combination of visual overload as well as fatigue from being surrounded by people that I need to take a walk in a forest that is dark and cool.   Yoyogi Park encompasses Meiji Jingu, and for me, it grasps my mood as if wearing a tight glove over a fist.  There is a significant walkway that goes to the shrine, but I found this path off the road that goes directly into the forest.  As I walk, I hear nothing else except for the crows, which seems to be chattering endlessly.  I believe these birds have a complex skill in communicating.  It's interesting to note that I often feel inarticulate and a sense of vocabulary leaving me, yet the crow can chit-chat until exhaustion.

Crows are known to attack people, steal food off a plate if you are on a picnic, and attack smaller animals.   It seems that they have nothing but contempt for the human race.  It's rare in Los Angeles, but as a child, I remember a crow diving toward me and taking a chunk of my hair out of the head.  I was told that they use human hair to build their nest for their babies.  So, going to a city that has an over-population of crows does leave an emotional scar.  No one was around, yet the birds seemed to surround me as I walked deeper into the pathway.  I didn't even know where this road would lead me to.  After a while, I realized I was just following the sounds of the crow.

The fascinating aspect of the forest or Yoyogi Park is that it is made by humans, not nature.  I have a distaste for 'real' nature, and I prefer the touch of human hands in creating a natural landscape.  Beyond the crows, it is ironic that they took over that is basically an invention of humans.  The perfectly designed park, but overtaken by crows.  It is similar to seeing President Trump in the White House.  The architecture was made to serve another purpose, but the guest who wouldn't leave took over the premise, and here we are, wondering how things collapse in such a fashion.