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Ourselves Writ Strange, Anne Collett

Anne Collett

As I consider what it is I most want to say in this brief essay, I realize that it is almost February and, essay marking aside, the winter term of teaching has come to an end. Already, after only four months in Tokyo, it is with some difficulty that I recall the first impressions of a stranger in a strange land; but the sense of achievement when I negotiated my way in, through and out of Shibuya station on my own is still palpable (and faintly ridiculous – I am after all a fully grown adult).