He comes home from work, closes the door of his studio apartment and hangs up his coat. He dons his black robe, makes a cup of tea, and then sits down on his tatami mat; the one with the couple of rocks on it that he picked up from a weekend trip to the mountains. He enjoys the quiet, or at least how much quiet he can get. He tries to escape from whatever it is he wants to escape from, but a radio is thumping from the parking lot, people pass by in the hall talking/yelling, a crying baby can be heard from next door. He tries to imagine himself in Kyoto and for a moment all is quiet and tranquil, but just then the phone rings.
Seeking quiet, moments of peace
Sitting on the mat, snow melting on the floor
Not to be, maybe later