The temperature had suddenly plummeted. An Indian summer that shimmered with golden sunlight blazing on drifts of golden leaves had somehow slid, overnight, into a dark slush of cold, mud, and clouds of breath hanging in the air.
It was a sweltering hot night in Tokyo. The humidity was ferocious, and his wet shirt clung to his back. The evening sky was the colour of burnt orange – dust from distant lands, whipped up into the atmosphere.
Sitting there in the soft gloom of the grand, crumbling auditorium, I was filled with a magical hum of excitement. It felt like we were all part of a little rebel army, intent on shining light into darkness….