It's still early. Caretakers are raking leaves over the gravel. There is incense. I stop to watch the carp.
The head priest loves carp.
I say a prayer. I step out over the gate frame.
People wave incense smoke onto their bodies.
There is a box full of forgotten pilgrim staffs.
A young couple stop in the rain to offer me a lift.
Copyright Edwina Breitzke May 1997