Chapter III. Red.

The monk of the God of Rice

January, Kyoto.

I was heading to Kōya-san, but in my way, I decided to stop by Fushimi-Inari Taisha, even though I had been there the day before, I can not explain why.

It was early, the Shinre was almost empty, and through the distance, I saw a peaceful monk praying. He went to do the ceremony, and I followed him. I did not took any picture of the ceremony, for respect. But his presence made me follow him on his way back again. He walked firmly through this beautiful hypnotic labyrinth of red Toriis.

For an instant, we where alone walking through this doors.

I felt like a monkey in the palm of Buddha in his presence. I felt so insignificant. Like a grain of sand compared to the majesty of the universe.

The mirror of my camera black me out my vision an in that fraction of second while I was loading the film, the Monk disappeared.

And I was surrounded by tourists again. The Dream was over. I never saw the monk again in my days on Kyoto.

JESUS RODRIGUEZ LLUCH