From chapter 11 of "Every Day is Beautiful With You", a book about the daily lives of drag queens in Tokyo:
Oh, cherry blossom trees...
It had been a day like today. There was the threat of snow on cherry blossoms, so I was bundled up in my coat and scarf. Some people were wearing short sleeves, however. It was quite a strange mixture of clothes that were out and about. I felt comfortable, though.
My hands were shoved into my pockets. I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch, but I'd gotten turned around. I'd gotten off the train and come up from the station, but I must have gotten off at the wrong stop. I was always doing this.
I decided to pick a direction and started walking. This was a neighborhood I'd been in before. I was familiar enough, but it was still hard to know where I was exactly. When I saw that I was near Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, I knew I'd definitely gotten off at the wrong stop. The neighborhood I was supposed to be in had to be tens of minutes away by walking. I'd have to get on the train again.
I was about to turn around, when I looked down at the ground by chance. It made me stop, and admire. Somehow, I'd ended up standing in a small flurry of light pink petals. It was so pretty, and made me envision a new color for a dress. But, would I look good in such a light pink color? How could I make it work? What kind of fabric makes the audience think of cherry blossoms? How to get the message across? Suddenly a sea of ideas, too many at once. I'd have to get to the restaurant and write it down. Even more reason to go, but I wanted to watch them some more.
As I followed a path of pink flower petals, I began to hear it. A complex, but gentle sound. Sparkling, like the rising sun is golden and sparkling on a calm pond. Twinkling like a star does up above in the night sky. Like the petals flutter in the relaxed, warm spring wind.
This enchanting melody. These sweet tones. Following it now, as my guide to somewhere better than I've ever known. Forgetting about lunch or being lost.
Singing the song silently into my scarf, knowing it because it was an old song. A singer that I love already. This gentle version so beautiful. Ethereal, even.
There were so many cherry blossoms here on the ground. Swirls of them, from the wind. Making dancing patterns. My eyes went up and alighted on the most beautiful and unexpected sight of all.
Gentle hands on white keys. Large, yet slender hands. Long fingers, playing a brown upright piano. Petals on branches all around, a young tree hugging the piano and the player. Oh, the player...