Canon's Diary

It was sunny, but this is the kind of season where it’s hard to decide what to wear. You could say it’s cold, or you could say it’s warm. In the morning, I turned on the heater in the room, but as I got into unpacking after our move, I warmed up quickly and turned it off. My wife had gone out early to help with a youth tennis tournament organized by the city. I stayed in and continued tidying up the room. As I sorted through things, I found items to throw away and put them into bags, then set them out in the hallway for now. I had kept some cardboard boxes, thinking they might come in handy, but in a small 7.5-tatami room, they just get in the way if they’re not being used, so I flattened them and put them out too.

Around 10 a.m., I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Come to think of it, all I’d had after yesterday’s practice was a light meal of soba noodles. I had an early lunch, then settled into my old reclining chair—nearly twenty years old now—and gazed out through the west-facing window. There must’ve been strong wind high up, as the clouds were moving swiftly, constantly changing shape. In the afternoon, despite the clear blue sky, there were moments of sudden drizzle. Strange weather. As the sunlight grew stronger, I half-closed the curtains.

On the white wall of the room hangs a monochrome portrait of my favorite tennis player, along with a racket that holds sentimental value. Also framed on the wall are single-page summaries of books that had a strong impact on me. I made them so I wouldn’t forget their messages over time. Now I wonder—should I bring these framed pieces to the one-room apartment in Osaka? The wall was already cluttered with them, making the space feel cramped, so I’ve been unsure.

I had planned to go to tennis school for a 7 p.m. lesson tonight, but I’m feeling heavy from yesterday’s session. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be living in a hotel in Osaka for another week. I’m thinking I might let my body rest a bit today.