What Mimori is to Me

Now as may be expected from this sort of thing, it is personal and completely subjective. Read at your own discression.

This story starts, as all good stories do start, with a trauma. A while ago I spent a year studying abroad in Tokyo, Japan.
I have fallen in love with Japan quite some time before then, and so this was my dream...but it was hard. Those who have been
to Japan know how cold the winters can get, and the toll that the exhorbantly high prices and insincere smiles can take
on a young adult traveling all alone.
I started going to gothic events, and their met my friend's boyfriend. He contacted me later, upon learning
that I was his girlfriend's friend (he hadn't known), and we met at a bright little coffeeshop in Shinjuku
and talked over a cup of tea. It was there that he said he was lonely too, his girlfriend being back in the USA,
and so I suggested that we meet every week, just to chat. He agreed. Now he was a bit secretive,
and a dollmaker, and altogether a very nice person. It was from him that I first learned about Mimori Yusa,
whom he admired greatly. We would go to karaoke and I would sing her songs (for I've been told
my voice is very much like hers), and he would pout in odd assortment of cyber clothing, old man jackets,
tacky 70's stuff, and Mylene Farmer 3/4 women's shirts because they didn't have chansons.
...and then a month later he dumped her. He started talking about how I was his "daughter",
and how he had made me from a tree branch, about how I was a "true shoujo"
(a Japanese concept meaning "strong, independent, smart young girl" roughly)...
the occult...once he said that I was going "to find the truth." And all the while taking
pictures...

..............................................*click to read more*