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Several months later…
ASIAZIL
Michiko sat cross-legged on a cliff overlooking a pure blue sea. She strummed her acoustic guitar, her fingers working their way up and down the fretboard in a bossa nova rhythm.
She loved to sing with her eyes closed, but this time she kept her eyes wide open, singing quietly, watching the gulls flapping, the white pelicans scooping fish out of the water, the waves washing up on the tourist filled beaches where vendors pushed meat carts up and down the sand, the teams playing volleyball on the sand, the shimmering glasses of caipirinhas, the bedazzled fishing boats drifting on the shore and the fishermen in wide straw hats, and the giant red torii gate standing in the sea, watch over it all—this awesome clash of culture and society.
“This is the song
