ゴロゴロする

Kyoko and I are walking across a bridge in Arashiyama, Kyoto—ours fingers blueing from wind, our cheeks swelling from cold—when she asks what about Japan have I come to love the most. I look to her and see the vibrant kimono she wears: cerulean and lapis, magenta and orange. Against the graying sky of old Kyoto—with its wooden houses and shopping street…