Close to Mitaka station, on our way back from the Ghibli Museum (where no photos are allowed inside) we paused for a refreshing tea in a lovely-tiny cat-and-tea themed teahouse we discovered three years ago, on our first trip to Japan.
It was Sakura then, just like now.
The sidewalk is covered with cherry petals that the wind robbed for a last dance from the trees, as if it is snowing a sweet-scented snowflakes. When the dance ends, summer dreams come nocking on the thin windows.
The photo was already here three years ago, just like today, tenderly guarded by hugging flowers, frozen in a timeless winter in the heart of eternal spring.
No one knows when did he witness the last dance of cherry petals, but his spirit is till whispering those soft and almost invisible secrets that only a life spent in a teahouse can teach.