I couldn’t sleep last night. I was thinking about the Japanese, and me trying to learn Japanese. The ticket controller on the train bowed for the passengers before leaving the compartment. Kukai died in the year 1757 but is still in mediation. A strong man with a large temple. The monk prayed for us, for us to be happy. Yesterday I drank the nicest green tea.
I ran through Kyoto this morning, an elderly man raised his vist for me as if I was a superathlete. Fifty minutes later he still stood on the same place and raised his vist again, smiling broadly. We went by bus on our own for the first time, you only need to check out. There is free jazz blazing out of every speaker in the streets. A lot of people are wearing their shoes too big. I like that. They walk like crazy.
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