At this time in autumn twenty-five moons ago, we were bashing around on the “living husband-and-wife bridges” in Japan’s most secluded wilderness in a “wild
Although we followed Namgyel’s guidance and arrived early to get to a good seat at the country’s largest and most popular cultural festival, throngs of
Quietly, our stockinged feet touch the cool, grey floor. Like a water droplet at the moment of landing, this concrete shell elongates. Pillarless. Seamless. Edgeless.
“Eek-y-guy” What? “Eek-y-guy” is how you pronounce the Japanese word ikigai, which means having a sense of purpose. For the Japanese jubilado Tsukimi Ayano, making
Benesse House Park, round about midnight on the way to our room, a ghostly guy in the shadows near the Hiroshi Sugimoto artwork “That’s good
Remember when we were younger travellers and spent hours looking for souvenirs for ourselves and our friends and family? If you’re like us, you’ve stopped
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