Every day for hours I strolled around Zen gardens and shrines.
It was moist and hot and typhoon rains hit from time to time.
In spite of the weather, people looked more sheltered than ever this summer of 2011; They were wrapped with long gloves, hats, scarves, jackets; huge sun glasses even in gray rainy sight.
The rumors of nuclear particles that fall with rain drops were translated for me to English.
From time to time, I sat on a bench or a stone.
The cicadas were loud as if screaming out their short life.
Do they have lungs?
I heard my heartbeat and a black crow – I was thinking of Murakami.