For years I dreamed of going Japan explosive mixture of ultra-modern and traditional as preserved. One of the most immediate reaction to my arrival at the airport was my frustration as illiterate. Reinforced by the fact that the scenery is unusual: no endless desert, beggars invasive or strange animals. Just curious if these facies in a setting not so different after all. Of course, it was out of Tokyo to better understand the unique Japanese. See women in kimono complete painted white, their delicate pendants planted in small cleverly developed a bun, skirt and uniformed police officers wearing white gloves to traffic, sad or office workers seized in gray suits me because the journey was finally time also.
This trip was a sort of pilgrimage to the bottom. I wanted to see Hiroshima martyr, the cherry blossoms and beds of pink floral snow, watching the red and black toris whose feet were washed by the sea, go immerse myself in a tub of warm mud and daydream about the possibility can perhaps become famous in this country where the fashions and fads are so unexpected. I wanted traverse the archipelago in every corner. From the onslaught of the cold northern Hokkaido to the stifling heat of Okinawa residents whose longevity has earned it the status of Crete Asia.
loved and abandoned myself to this insularity , trying vainly to melt into the population but is also evident that a separate beacon.
Me then returned in memory of those beginnings cinephile who touched me particularly vis-à-vis Japan. These films lately ... It's so subtle in fact the subtlety and delicacy that seemed to define this country so unusual. I loved to watch his old. Behind every wrinkled face, gray hair in each, I found a bit of Mrs. Koide, this old woman born from the imagination of a Welshman, living in seclusion, but his farm had been the heroine of Valley of the Fireflies in his youth, keeping his secret forgotten youth, rolled in a movie poster which time had spared.
is also looking at the simple yukata elders. I thought they represented the equivalent our berets.
What was perhaps most tangibly miss this song would be so special cicadas Japanese, so haunting appeal in four stages, more diverse than ours. I was surprised also to the lack of trinkets referring in all the tourist shops, because I had never heard this song elsewhere. I would voice the protest of Amaterasu.
therefore be understood the voice of the rising sun ...
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