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Portland, Oregon, USA

From a young age, my obsession with Japanese culture took root. I admired their unyielding discipline, their profound sense of honor, and the weight they placed on "saving face". As I grew older, I was drawn to the gritty pathways and hidden curiosities of Portland, Oregon, a city that contradicted everything I learned from the Japanese culture. And yet, somehow, it captured my heart.

I immersed myself in the air of Portland, Oregon, becoming one with its chaotic consciousness and reveling in the vibrant grime. I soon found my way into the city's eclectic enclaves, discovering obscure and unnamed coffee shops behind small doors and delightfully bizarre knick-knacks in tucked-away flea markets.

As I embraced Portland's easygoing spirit, I soaked under the rain that kissed this Pacific Northwest haven. The city's unhurried aura was intoxicating, and I succumbed willingly.

Then, an unexpected discovery caught my attention — the Japanese shared my kinship with Portland. Something about this city resonated with them, calling to them and pulling them closer with promises of a unique way of life, outside their daily norm.

I've frequented Portland more times than my mind can fathom, each journey across the United States urging me to carve out time for my beloved city. In those captivating moments, I allow myself respite, nursing a worn-out paperback from Powells and savoring that perfect cup of coffee. My eyes devour the landscape of faces before me, while my ears attune to the melodic echoes the city breathes into existence.

And when it's time to leave, my chest swells with a weight that only the promise of return can soothe. But with each reunion, I find the city transformed—a collision of old and new, unbridled chaos, housing a myriad of wandering shadows.

A list of my favorite places

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