π Mutsu, Aomori
A rainy seaside day turned into a candy apple sunset by the time I walked into Mutsu, to the sound of a low drumbeat hammering down its homely streets. Schoolkids were beating out a savage rhythm, practicing for next weekβs festival, and I stood off to the side, my chest vibrating with the beat, the children paying me no mind. These were small drums, yet their sound filled the evening, and I imagined the giant taikos, taller than a grown man, and they must rip the world in two. The volcano darkened to indigo, I walked down to the river, and the colors drained from the sky.
π Mutsu, Aomori
π Mutsu, Aomori