After I found the red bridge I was heading back toward the main road. It was growing late and my nose was levying death on itself. I spotted an odd looking sign and pointed in at a fork in the road. I didn't think much of the sign because I couldn't read the name. The road curved down a slight slope and then across the river. It was dark and shadowy from the trees and overcast sky. What I saw when I drove across the bridge was a true find. Up broad wide steps that were built with large boulders sat an old shrine.
Not ancient but not new either. I took off my shoes and walked up the dull colored steps. The floor creaked and bemoaned my heavy steps. Being alone there was mysterious. The carvings along the top woke up. Intricate dragons and cranes were gazing at me wondering where such a person had come from.
It was dark inside. Gloomy and dusty.
Concrete, metal, and consumerism don't speak when they are silent.
This is where you hear and feel Japan.