ARON

Aspiring videographer. Emotive writer. Arduous human. Aron Willem Hinders, creator of the project "135 days from home" originates from the Netherlands. He wandered around Akita International University from August 2023 to December 2023, where he had the privilege to study and travel around Japan.

In the project "135 days from home", Aron explores unusual English words by interpreting them through modes of Creative Writing and Photography. He made all photographs found throughout the website during his travels in Japan while all writings are composed during his time at AIU. Correlation? A concept the author currently deems overrated. Interpretation? "Good luck wandering the ambiguous fields of art" (Aron).

After leaving AIU, Aron continued his travels in an unexplored territory: Taiwan! Be sure to follow his socials to stay up-to-date!

135 days from home

SONDER

All it takes is one look,

One realization,

That we’re all the same.

Heading home,

If we own the privilege of one.

One life unwritten.

The other, near credits away.

One’s hand, untouched,

And free.

The other, carried,

Carved by life’s disarray.

Experiences, near all cliches.

Yet intricate,

Unique, in a way.

Listen beyond the rubble,

The voices, the sirens.

And you just might find

Stillness,

Composure.

METANOIA

Hi, it’s me.

I just wanted to catch up for a while if that’s okay.

I haven’t seen you in a bit. Those pudgy cheeks that everyone used to pinch, you used to think they were your greatest attributes. But as soon as they got covered with dozens of glares of youthful shame, you started to hate them. I never understood why your own reflection scared you.

We drifted the same sea, you and me. Waiting for a gust to take us where we belonged. To overcome us – to save us. But as we both now know, superheroes are fiction, and miracles are of the old times. After you left, I was faced with a choice, an ultimatum of sorts. I’d either give up, like we used to fantasize about, or get up, crown against the sky – and finally hoist that sail!

But – which one is the sail again? And more importantly, how the fuck am I ever going to hoist it?

I had to learn to be my own superhero, my own miracle. So that’s exactly what I did. I dared to love the roughness of the deep blue I once despised. If only we had gotten up earlier. And don’t get me wrong, the storms are still intense, they quite suck - but without the contrast of the struggle, how could we truly experience life at sea? How could we truly feel – alive?

I remember you used to ask me what it meant – to be alive. And although I think it differs per individual, I think I can finally answer. Being alive it’s - it’s to feel, to let others in, to laugh, to cry. To be alive is to discover, to grief, yet to dance. It’s to get your heart broken, yet to break through. Make new friends, drift apart, fall in love. It’s this wide tapestry of - simple things. Things we have heard many times before, in movies, in songs, yet things that - you feel, ever so intensely.

What we’ve gone through – what life has brought us in the past year, has completely overruled my deeply rooted perceptions.

And honestly?

It has never felt better to be so God damn wrong.

If only you could have been here to see it.

Limerence

Falling in love with a guy for the first time was exciting, to say the least. With deep forest eyes, lips softer than the couch we used to sit on. His thunder truly ruled my mind.

Nostalgic roads guided my bike through complete navy darkness. Bouncing back vibrations that kept my entire existence awake. Offering no ability left to blink.

No tall buildings that made my neck arch. No street lights burning through the depth of my eyelids. No other bikes heading home. No life to be found, whatsoever.

Incapable to do anything except scream his name over plain fields where not one soul could hear a crack in the sound of an impossibility.

valediction

When you first arrive elsewhere, all the little lights seem to shimmer quite differently.

Your narrative may change wherever you go, but your essence tethers with those whose hands touch yours for the first time.

Interlocking, interchanging.

Your voice becomes a new voice, yet your jokes remain ever the same.

Unfamiliar pavements feel the weight that you bring with every step you take.

Faces morph into memories. You want to hold on to them. Were they not yours ?

The subtle smiles you received eased the anxiety your heart held before you arrived.

But you have arrived, and in terms – you must depart.

The cash that is folded in your pockets no longer holds value. Suddenly, you’re not a regular anymore. The idiom you grasped returns to mere gibberish to those around you.

But those stories you wrote – they will never be memories destined to be forgotten, they are fractions of the entirety. Yours, theirs. Forever gleaming in the air that surrounds you.

For now, the credits have to roll, your task is done. It’s time to go home.

As the soft Akitan gust slowly brushes your cheek one final time, simply remember that one day, we shall meet again.

ok tnx bye

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