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First living non-Japanese god of Japan, and the only soul left in

First living non-Japanese god of Japan, and the only soul left in

Truth 1

Truth 2
Truth 3
Truth 4

The four noble truths of living in Japan:  Japanese sake, Japanese Jukujo, Japanese hot springs, and Japanese food, and not necessarily in that order.   Without these and other accoutrements, you have not experienced Japan.    On my last trip up this winter, I headed to a little hamlet town called Shirabu Onsen, high above Yamagata City.   From God's eye ( left eye squinted  with a single strand of muff fujii lodged in it ), I could see the vast expanse of  horizon.  I see fuscia etherized by the death of winter across the skies.   I can hear the pickles crunching against the back of my eardrum as the sounds bounced off the skull bone for effect.    I had an xxxxxxx girlfriend who had a bone shaped head, and with much better acoustics than I had.    It echoed every time she ate something crunchy.   She would sit there and chew like a camel but only with its mouth closed.   She would grin intermittently in between bites as she chewed those crunchy pickled almost sanctimoniously, like they were her last.

I was 1200 meters above sea level and sitting in an open-air bath full of naked female strangers.    O Yamagata, how I love thee.

("If not for the snow-clad  pines and spruces that dot the landscape, then only the women and the fresh sake most certainly would suffice the mystical beauty of thee and save the day").   

I had been sitting in an open-air bath for two hours straight.   I was the only male left in a huge open door bath on a snowy mountain peak.   I was joined by two under 30 female patrons, fully ripe and absolutely gorgeous.   Now I know how it is, sitting in a bath tub full of strangers who do not want to sit next to me.   I love the good love of female company though, especially when they are so warm and convivial.   They moved right up to me without ANY TOWEL to cover their body.    I was the only shy person in the water!   I loved how the full moon cast a light across their breast, and how the water blurred it just a little in order to lend the outline of their bare  breast a type of  poetic justice to the men who stepped out of the bath..  


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