I am in Hakata now. My mother was originally from this region.
When I was a kid mother used to take me to the Kyushu Island. Summers in Kyushu had a profound effect on the buildup of my personality. The dialect, distinct and powerful, was a joy to hear and tickling to imitate.
When I look back on those trips on Shinkansen trains, which typically took hours, the transition itself was a joy, and I long for the breath of fresh air they brought.
Nowadays, it is less than two hours on the airplane, and the sense of transition has diminished.
Walking on the Hakata streets at night, I unconsciously looked for signs of change, both internal and external, and shuddered at the absence of the drastic. I needed to run, until I reached an intimidating speed. I've got it here inside still, the wind tells me.