culture – Page 42 – hannah ananas

Phfuuuuhhh(g)(!!!)

Well, tonight, we had some adventure.

And I’m still totally pissed about it.

Another hashtag “because ****ing Japan” under my belt tonight (which is kind of a big deal, considering I hardly ever wear belts, and am not wearing one tonight either). 😛

Anyway, I knew the whole time, and I still know now, that it was something I will enjoy and about which I will laugh (and probably much) in the future.

However, I am not ready for that.

And, really, I think that is because my emotions were, in a sense, denied, negated.

I was angry about something that happened.

I expressed this sentiment.

And the person with me kept trying to convince me not to be mad, and ended up doing so in a way that made me feel like my emotional response was invalid or wrong… and that, therefore, something was wrong with me.

Not cool, ね?

So, anyway, I think I need to get clear for myself that my emotions are valid: it is 100% okay and perfect that I was angry at what this other person did and the BS the taxi company pulled.

It is valid for me to be frustrated at my level of Japanese not being enough to sort out the situation on my own (in a hurry, anyway).

It is valid for me to be pissed that I didn’t just do it all the way I had wanted to do it all, but had instead done it a way to satisfy another.

It is valid for me to be pissed that I didn’t do a better job checking specifically the various train times.

It is valid for me to be stressed at the physical strain of running in the cold and wind and rain, in my rain boots that only mostly kept the water out (my heels ended up moist by the end, but it was somewhat expected).

It is also valid for me to be pissed at the person with me having constantly to talk…. (Ugh – shut up, already… I need to get through my own thoughts and feelings, please, without outside input [especially from the source of part of the strain, when that source isn’t changing its tune on the matter]… and to try to convince me not to be upset.

All my feelings are valid.

They are my own experience, and my experience is valid and true.

Thank you for this validation of and acceptance of my experience, Hannah.

Now that I have acknowledged it fully and accepted it, I can move forward in releasing it.

Phew…

…

Man, tonight kind of really sucked.

Thank you, God, for helping me through it, and thank you for helping me see the lessons in it, as well as for helping me improve myself from them, that I might do what I am here to do with you and the World and myself.

Amen.

Post-a-day 2019

Wow

I went dancing tonight.

And it was amazing.

And I met with friends I hadn’t seen in years.

And that was amazing, too.

And we all danced.

And my brother watched (and totally loved it! – Yay! -).

And it was a beautiful time, for which I am incredibly grateful.

And then my brother and I (and everyone else) headed home for the night.

And we got crammed into the train like sardines.

My brother wasn’t sure if we would make it on the train.

I told him it usually works out somehow.

I think he didn’t believe me.

His bulging eyes at the view when, not only did we make it onto the train, but so did another 20% of what had already gotten on before us after us, gave home away.

He started laughing, and it made me start laughing, and I could hardly breathe enough to catch my breath back – from being squeezed out every time another surge of people happened, and I was shoved, once again, into the pole in front of me, as I laughed so hard, I cried.

We took a selfie.

It was hilariously lovely.

And that was how we began my brother’s birthday, crammed in a train, laughing ridiculously.

😉

Post-a-day 2019

Fuji-San

It’s funny how the simplest of things can become the greatest of things in our lives. A passing comment from one individual can turn into a favorite of another. It makes me think of how little kids develop their favorites in life… Is it simply because their parents say something about that item, and they give it the right kind of encouragement that the child believes it is worth loving, and so the object becomes a child’s favorite of its kind?

What brought up the idea as a whole for me, though, is where I’m walking right now.

I’m on a path that goes alongside the river and the sports activities park in the town where I once lived in Japan.

As I walked up the stairs a few minutes ago, tears were burning my eyes, I was so elated.

A time in my life that I had simultaneously loved and hated with a passion, and here I am overflowing with joy at being able to come back and visit. Who I am now is nowhere near the person I was when I lived here, and that person is even different from the person who moved here.

I came to take a break. I didn’t want to be a teacher like I had been doing anymore.

I didn’t know what to do with myself.

But I had a feeling of wanting to get out… I wasn’t sure from what, if it was just the job, or the future of such a job, or the city, culture, or even, now that I can look back with different eyes, who I was and who I was being at the time.

Whatever the case, I decided to get out of the country. I came to Japan with a highly recommended, highly valued, highly honored, and very poorly paid job.

I struggled and I struggled and I struggled… I hit the lowest possible point I’ve ever had in my life regarding myself.

And, with that intense and slow yet fast break down, I set out to have a breakthrough. And I had the most intense overwhelming and invaluable breakthrough I have ever known, let alone in my own life personally experienced.

While I was here, living in Japan, I developed particular connections and attachments to different things. Onigiri, konbini, summer festival sake, kimono, yukata, onsen, train cards, and, last but far from least, Fuji-San… Mount Fuji.

I remember learning a long time ago that Fuji-San was a walkable mountain, as was Kilimanjaro. It never once occurred to me that I might have the opportunity in my life to climb either of these mountains. It simply wasn’t in the frame of possibility for me, and so I never considered its being a possibility.

And yet, the week I was leaving to move to Japan, one of the people who had interviewed me and whom I had greatly enjoyed getting to know, commented, “You should be able to see Fuji-San.”

It was at that moment that I remembered that Fuji San was even in Japan. And I had had no idea that it was going to be anywhere near somewhere I would be. (I still am pretty rough on Japanese geography.)

My first few weeks living in Japan, one of the other people with my same job, whom I had met at orientation and befriended, had photos of her hike up Fuji-San with a Japanese friend of hers. I then talked to her about it, and she told me how miserable it was, trekking through the rain, the miserable cold hurting her fingers and toes and entire body, yet she was extremely glad that she had done it. In the photos, pure joy was visible in her whole being.

It was then that I remembered the walkable fact, and I realized I could do that.

Naturally, it terrified me. But I asked about it, anyway. I learned that the season for climbing was very limited, and the person I had asked and who had offered to hike with me, was not going to be available this time. So, unwilling to go on my own – which, even with today’s eyes, I see as a good idea – I would have to wait until the next year. 11 months before I could do it. I didn’t have shoes right now anyway. And I quickly discovered that Japan doesn’t exactly have shoes in my size. So, I made it a point to buy hiking shoes when I went home for a wedding in November. I bought them for Fuji-San.

I was delighted, and terrified. I hiked a few mountains from then on to summer, and I loved every bit of it. I never knew I was such an outdoorsy person. I mean, I’ve always liked being outdoors, riding my bike, climbing trees, going on a walk… Whatever. But not a hiker. It turns out that I love hiking.

When I finally hiked Fuji-San, it was one of the most miserable nights of my life, even worse than that horrible time I had to stay outside the Montpelier airport, and I needed to pee from the very beginning, but had to wait five hours. (That really sucked, by the way, and it was really cold out, and I was not dressed appropriately for it.)

And it was lovely. The next morning was even worse, and we were all clear that we were never doing that again. But we wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Now as I walk along the banks here, I look out in the direction of Fuji-San. The clouds cover everything in the sky, as it is a somewhat overcast day, with low hanging clouds. Yet, I can feel Fuji-San. I know it is there, and I remember going up the hill regularly to look at it on clear days and nights.

It feels like a part of me lives with it.

Multiple times I visited it and took photos with it while in kimono. I went more than once to the lakes.

I want to go again, but it doesn’t seem to make sense this time.

Yet, I might still find a way to go, anyway.

I have a relationship with this mountain, this unbelievable and massive being who resides in Japan… And I wonder if any of it would’ve happened, if this connection ever would’ve developed, if that one person I respected regarding Japan and Japanese culture hadn’t said to me, “You should be able to see Fuji-San,” from my town.

Whatever the case, I am grateful for his comment, and I am grateful for everything that has developed in this beautiful relationship between me and the earth of Japan, which really is just a piece of this earth where we have the honor of living and where I feel blessed to be every single day, night, and moment of my life.

ありがとうございます富士山さん🗻

The key mono (thing) to a girl’s heart…

is a beautiful kimono that accentuates her natural beauty, and has her feel beautiful.

Okay, not really, but that’s still a great thing to have.

Today’s theme is kimono.

Why?

Well, because I finally went kimono browsing-slash-shopping again at my old beloved store.

That second-hand shop that has a little bit of almost everything.

I bought a traditional Japanese instrument and its case (together labeled only “Jyanku Paatsu”*, but without any actual name for the instrument), which is totally gorgeous, and which seems like it would work great, if we just replaced the strings, which are similar to guitar and the likes.

I tried on some Timberlands (one of the shoes for which I’ve been keeping an eye open the past few years), and enjoyed looking at all the dish ware.

But then I practically began hyperventilating when I reached the kimono section and began to look around it.

Gorgeous.

GORGEOUS.(!!!)

Of course, I purchased several today… getting them home with no car counted for my workout of the day… it was rough and very heavy.

Now I just have to go get some obis and the haori ties and the Obie over-ties and, maybe, a hyoku.

Then, perhaps, socks from the 100¥…(?), if they don’t have any here.

Yeah… anyway, I’m exhausted.

Goodnight! ❤

*Translates to Junk Parts, aka the instrument doesn’t work properly

In it

Well, I have been in Japan for a handful of days now… and I am doing well – it feels like I never left, while simultaneously feeling like it has been ages since I left.

I think I will have a great time here.

And I believe that I will be ready to go home, once it is time to head home.

I have lots to say and share, and now is not the time.

Now is the time for sleeping.

Goodnight!

Post-a-day 2019

Nihonjin Smash a-Gain?!

It must be the weekend of Nihonjin Smashes…

First, we had the food on the train yesterday.

Today, we suddenly had a woman ON HER PHONE on the train today… and not quietly, either.

I was several feet away from her, a few yards/meters, and I could hear her rather easily… and I don’t have the greatest of hearing abilities, by the way.

It was nuts.

And she wasn’t young either…, so she totally knew better (aside from the fact that all over the train there are signs saying to put phones on “manaa mode”, manaa being the onomatopoeia for vibration, and not to be on calls on them while on the train.

(And then they remind everyone, “…please off your seat…,” to someone in need, on the next part of the repeated announcements.)

And she can read those signed… I only barely and I’m part can, and I’m not Japanese…, so she could totally read those announcements, and easily so.

Nonetheless, she took a phone call, it was silly, and I could hardly believe it but for yesterday’s eye-opening act.

Post-a-day 2019

Deep listening

Today, my Advent Calendar’s task for me was to identify somewhere where I have needed to speak up for myself, and then to be brave and to speak up for what I need in that area.

I didn’t know this until tonight, because I forgot to look at the calendar page until tonight.

And yet, somehow, it seems some part of me knew that this was today’s task.

Why do I say that?

Because that is exactly what I did today.

I’ve been wanting to go watch someone play soccer for quite some time now.

Supposedly – and I believe it – he is an amazing soccer player.

Since he is so good, I cannot imagine he would play on a team with players who aren’t also at least quite good players.

Therefore, I can only see one of his soccer games as being a very high and beautiful level of play – the exact kind of play worth watching, worth admiring, even.

When I initially asked if I could see him play sometime, he agreed easily, and he seemed unconcerned.

Yet, every time I would send him a message, asking about when his upcoming games are, there would be radio silence… he would reply to whatever I sent after that message about the games, but never to the message about the games.

After this most recent occurrence of said behavior – this past weekend – I felt myself at a limit.

Either he didn’t want me to come or not – whatever the case, I needed to be done with the wondering about whether he was avoiding my coming to a game.

I wanted first to give up altogether, say nothing, and do what I could to forget about it and to write it – and thereby him – off forever.

But then I noticed how uneasy I was with that plan, how degraded I felt, like I wasn’t good enough in his eyes for some reason, and then that my avoiding getting clarification was a personal admittance that I didn’t believe myself good enough.

Even if he somehow thought I was trying to go to a game because I wanted to date him, I was good enough – I am good enough – to date him.

(And, let’s be real here: He is quite possibly the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in real life… and that’s saying something.)

However, upon consideration, I am clear that I do not want to date him – I hardly know him.

I would need to get to know him a lot better before I could genuinely consider if I were genuinely interested in dating him.

And – super big star here – it hardly matters, anyway, since he’s already in a relationship.

And I am not interested in playing any kind of role beyond friend or acquaintance in that sort of situation.

But that’s a bit beside the point: the point was that I needed to stand up for myself and find out from him why he keeps avoiding answering my requests for soccer game details.

I prepared myself mentally last night, and went through what all I might need to say when I saw him today.

I set myself a reminder for just before I was likely to be seeing him, with my general comments, with what I wanted to say – I didn’t want to forget, and then have to live with that for the next month while I’m gone.

And I put the reminder in French, just in case it popped up on my phone when someone was around to see it.

There were two parts to the message, but I found that I only needed to use the one part, the part of simply asking why he always ignored the messages.

I had to work myself up to it, but I did it, and I walked right up to him, and I asked him.

And it was loud, so I actually had to repeat myself, which only encouraged me more, somehow.

And I stood my ground on my point that he always leaves me with no response; just a “read” message.

And he said that he sees it, gets distracted, forgets to go back and reply, eventually sees the next message, whatever it is, and responds immediately and directly to that (suggesting that he doesn’t notice what was just above it in the conversation).

And he said that he likely has a game tomorrow night.

And that he will let me know which of the two times it ends up being.

And he told me approximately where it will be.

I don’t know if I will be at a soccer game tomorrow night or not, but I accept this as 1) progress on the soccer-game-watching front, and as 2) a beautiful win for standing up for myself, and on multiple levels.

Also, it is a total bonus that it just so happened to be my Advent Calendar task for the day.

I guess, when we are doing our best and being our best selves, we tend to be in sync woh the world around us, and things like that are more and more likely to happen.

For that, and for my strength today, I am grateful. 🙂

Peace

Hannah

Post-a-day 2019

News of Note

I gave up watching and reading the news several years ago, due to the fact that almost nothing in it was ever positive.

What was the point?

Rather than being the new information being shared, the news has merely become the show about as much negativity shared as is possible.

‘What other bad thing can we share with people?’ felt like the question news channels seemed to be asking themselves constantly.

It made society feel horrible and almost hopeless… made humanity seem utterly terrible…

And that is not something in which I want to participate, so I just gave it up altogether – if something noteworthy happened, someone somehow would let me know.

And it has worked really well these past several years.

Truly.

I am grateful that I did it.

No, I don’t necessarily know what they’re talking about on SNL’s Weekend Update most of the time anymore, but I don’t really watch any television anymore in the first place, so it hardly matters.

(Can you believe it’s been over a decade already since I gave up watching television?!… wow…)

I’ve contemplated many a times creating a magazine or newspaper – almost certainly digital – that only shares good news, positive news, because that’s the stuff that we all really want to hear about anyway, and almost no one seems to be sharing about it… and, if someone is sharing about it, very little time is given to it, especially when compared to the negative and sad stuff in the news.

Tonight, for the first time, I crossed someone who did something quite similar to what I would like to do: share things worth sharing.

By the end of the article – okay, I only looked at the pictures, but that was totally the point, anyway – I was delighted, my spirits were totally lifted, and I was really interested in learning more about all of the topics given… basically, I want articles to go with each of the positive pieces of news…, but I guess that’ll just have to be something saved for my future newspaper/magazine. ;P

Enjoy the picture article here!

It is well worth the quick read-through! 😀

Post-a-day 2019

Nakey-Nakey

I have two things I want to discuss tonight: getting naked and, well, getting naked.

I hadn’t really realized this seemingly blatantly obvious link between the two, until just now…

***Note: These are not standard nothings tonight, but actual open thoughts and descriptions of two separate scenarios involving human nudity… so, be forewarned that it isn’t exactly PG13 material tonight… ***

Anyway, so the first getting naked…

I had my final appointment today at the laser hair removal place.

It was for laser hair removal on my bikini line.

—— Side note: The appointment was actually for tomorrow, but I somehow got it wrong in my calendar… the girl who showed up while we were sorting it at the counter turned out to be the same girl who had been behind me and had helped me after my fall on the road the other week(!)… we had a fun time of evaluating the crazy odds of our meeting like this, mere blocks from where we had first met, though under entirely different circumstances – actually for both of us, as she worded it, to ‘have our pubes lasered off’… ——-

So, anyway… laser hair removal…. bikini line…. final treatment…. As usual, the technician asked during my lasering session whether I had considered doing a full Brazilian.

First off, Ouch!(!!!).

Second off, mmm, I want to keep a semblance of natural to my body, thank you…. plus, no offense intended here, but it kind of freaks me out to see no pelvic hair on adult bodies…. it reminds me too much of children’s lack of pubic hair, and is in no way attractive to me… and makes me not even want to consider for too long, because it starts freaking me out having sexual attraction and children be in the same line of thinking, despite their being technically separated in the thoughts…. anyway…

However, I didn’t say all of this – it was just my regular thoughts that arose at the idea of having a Brazilian lasering session done to remove all of that hair.

I did tell her, though, that I had considered it, that I wouldn’t mind having the hair in the back be gone – I mean, who likes butt crack hair?… eww… – but that I wanted to keep the hair in the front.

‘We can do that,’ she tells me, ‘just the back strip.’

‘Really?’ I ask, surprised that it is an option, since I have never seen it listed among the many area options these laser hair removal places all offer.

She gives me some details, and I follow up with the girl at the counter, after we finish with the session.

It is extremely affordable to do the ‘add-on’, as they call it, and so I sign myself up for it.

(Then, they get me in on the other part of the last day of their Black Friday sale, and I go ahead and sign myself up for the final area I had been considering to have lasered for quite some time now… and the price is so good, I know it won’t happen again before I’m ready to seek out doing it later on, so I accept, and gladly so…, but that is beside the point here… moving on…)

Rather than wait for my next appointment – turns it I had one more I could do for bikini line, so we scheduled me for that, and just included the others in that future appointment – in January to start the two new areas, they gave me a razor, I went and shaved myself freshly, and the same technician and I went back into the room together, and quickly did the other two areas.

Now, I was mentally prepared for this back strip of Brazilian, because a friend and I had just been discussing her Brazilian waxing seasons of the past and laser hair removal of the present last night.

She was comfortable with someone touching her buttocks in that context, because she had been doing it for so long, and, well, that’s why she’s there – it involves being handled in private areas.

We got into talking about how context allows for lots of things in one situation that would be absurd in another.

For example, I shared about how I was on a topless beach in Barcelona with or mutual acquaintance Bryan.

“You did not go topless on a beach with Bryan,” she says, almost panicked, eyes wide, turning to face me directly.

“No, I didn’t,” I laugh, “but, once he left, I was totally fine going topless.”

Because the context of topless beaches in Barcelona had it be totally normal for the Spaniards around me.

e.g. The family of Mom, Dad, and two boys, aged about 12 and 8, in which even Mom was topless as they sat together on their blanket.

But it is not normal in our home culture, so there was basically no chance I was going to be topless around Bryan.

Fast-forward to my second session within my laser hair removal appointment today.

In the first session, I was lying on the table in my t-shirt and underwear, when the technician, clicking at buttons on the machine, says to hang on, it’s not working.

She then tells me that I can relax, because it’ll be a minute.

And then, quite casually, ‘We’ll have to go to another room – this one’s not working.’

She asks while standing at the door, almost as an afterthought, but not quite, if I want to put my own clothes back on, or if I want her to grab me a robe.

I quickly remove the sheet covering me, as I tell her that I can just put on my shorts, and then do so.

I leave my belongings there, and go with her to a different room next door.

Without giving her a chance to leave – they always leave, even though I am keeping on my underwear, per their recommendation, but the way, and they are going to see me without the sheet anyway as soon as they start doing the treatment… – I drop my shorts on the floor, and plop on the bed.

She seems unconcerned in every way.

As she talks to me, she is so casual and blasée, and says everything like an almost afterthought, as though she had just caught herself daydreaming, and realized that she was supposed to be talking pleasantly to the client.

Her lumbering drawl, at such a slowed rate from the traditional, “Hi! I’m Kimberley!” waitress or general service industry young female, ready to serve You! way of high-energy speaking, is soothing, but also almost comical.

Compared to Kimberly!, she seems to be drugged with super-chill pills…

(But not actually drugged.)

I personally am very comfortable with silence, so I didn’t mind her lack of conversation, but I can imagine that their training tells them to talk to the clients, and so I accept her after-thought-ish comments with sense of wry humor.

– It’s funny having a conversation with someone when you both know that you definitely are okay not talking with one another, but that also the conversation is necessarily by royal decree, so to speak. –

So her comments always seem to be ever so slightly delayed, giving her a very laid-back and chill vibe, though differently so from typical laid-backedness and chillness…

Now, as mentioned, we go back in the room for our second session together, after I talk with and pay the girl at the front desk.

I am expecting, in the room, to be put on my belly or something, and to have her move my cheeks to the sides – since that was something specifically mentioned by my friend about her Brazilians, and she is the only ‘experience’ I have with them – but that, of course, does not happen.

She tells me, still in her passive and casual, slow meter, “Okay, so, for the butt, you’re just gonna pull both your knees up to your chest and hold them there with your arms.”

I have a moment to process the words and what they mean, and then another to verify with myself that I’m okay with fulfilling the suggested request, and then I do it.

And she, as with all the rest, casually, as though she’s barely even aware of what actually is in front of her, but is instead thinking about that blue and purple drink she saw in the store yesterday and what was it made of?…, lasers the back strip of a Brazilian, and I consider laughing at the whole thing, as I recall Sophie Kinsella’s I’ve Got Your Number comment of, “Mind your own Brazilian!!”*

But I was totally comfortable.

The context of the situation – a laser hair removal place where getting Brazilians is totally normal in the first place – combined with the oh-so-blasée way of the technician allowed me to be super comfortable, despite the fact that I was lying on my back on a table, wearing only a bra, hugging my knees, and showing all my lower parts to a woman I don’t even know…

I am still grateful for her.

And I am grateful for all that has transformed in me, which has allowed me to enjoy and participate in such a scenario, as opposed to long for it but be too terrified of it even to consider doing it.

…

Okay, nakey situation number two time!

I’ve begun reading the book To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, after falling little girl in love with the Netflix original film by the same name, which is based on the book.

So far, as usual, some is exactly the same and some it totally different, but I am enjoying the book, nonetheless.

Tonight, I read the following passage, which really had me start thinking:

I wonder, though: What would it be like? To be that close to a boy, and have him see all of you… no holding back. Would it be scary only for a second or two, or would it be scary the whole time?

There is more to the thought that the character is having, but this was the part that stuck out for me.

What would it be like to be naked with someone we love wholly and who wholly loves us?

Would there be embarrassment at all -even if we both are totally for, let’s say – or would we be shy, at least on the inside, concerned by the exposure and the prospect of… of what exactly?

Of being hurt?

Being naked doesn’t mean we’ll be hurt, but being exposed emotionally always seems to carry with it a fear of being hurt, and so does our physical nakedness and exposure somehow also carry that same fear and discomfort?

Is that why we struggle to be naked in front of people Period?

Are we so afraid of being hurt?

And I don’t mean physical hurt… purely emotional, psychological, stuff with the head.

Are we so afraid in our heads that we would be afraid to show everything openly and comfortably to the one we love most?

How often do couples just be naked together, without it being sex?

Do they take the time to explore the physical beauty of one another’s bodies without haste and without avoidance or hiding anything?

As Sophie Kinsella’s same book says, “including the dodgy bits.”

But, even then, she only mentions that her man has seen them, not that he has embraced them, nor that she has.

Does the comfort of being seen fully and embraced naked by another stem first from our being able to see ourselves naked and to embrace all parts of our naked selves?

I think so.

And I think it would be a wonderful and powerful experience for couples to take the time just to see fully on another’s bodies, and to learn to embrace them just as they are.

Like how we can take the time just to sit and to gaze into one another’s eyes and be with one another fully – what if we did that with our whole bodies?

I think it would be not only beautiful but beneficial – for the individuals, for the couple, and for the world as a whole.

Expanding our love in such a way could only be a good thing for the world around us…

So, yeah… those are my two things about getting naked tonight… I think I went a little off the trail here and there, and I might have used some poor wording – I definitely did – but I hope the points made it across, anyway. 🙂

Sweet dreams, World.

*Look it up… it’s a great book and an awesome scenario around the comment. ;D

Every day, a little more

Today, after the workout, I went purposefully and sat with the guys from class who were hanging out and somewhat stretching.

I was not embarrassed when they were worried at my possibly having heard something – which I admitted comfortably that I hadn’t heard, and even chuckled at the situation.

I listened to and commented in and participated actively in the conversation that arose as I sat there… and I did it all comfortably.

And I didn’t say anything that I didn’t want to say (AKA something mean or overdoing joking, etc.).

And I envy that girl her position and her words now, as I look back on the memory.

I was almost entirely my goal self, and it was amazing.

Anywho…, every day I am more and more myself in a way I had never allowed myself to experience myself…

It’s like that song from “Kinky Boots” called “I’m not my father’s son,” sung by Lola/Simon and Charlie… I can relate loads to the words in that one… phew!

Post-a-day 2019