sept 14th wed - Shibuya district - random shops
Mura sat and watched the people past through the shopping hub of Tokyo. Taking a lick of her ice cream cone, Mura stood and followed the flow of people. She listened to them talk on their cell phones, friends at their sides, or maybe a loved one next to them. Another lick and Mura stopped at a small side shop. She glanced at the items for sale with little or no interest.
Mura pressed forward, moving with the river like flow of people. All the close contact made her ill, she hated Tokyo. The teenagers of the new generation were becoming more and more reckless on how to treat the world around them. They take for granted the earth that has taken care of them for so long, old legends and stories of wonder, it was all wasted on the youth and arrogance.
In the end, death for Mura was the only way to give back to the earth. It was the ultimate equal exchange for everything the humans take, to be replaced by their own life. Sadly, due to space reasons, the dead could not be placed into the ground. Instead a gravestone - a marker for their spirit, is set up, and they are burned to ass. Whatever they could give back, lost in the fires that burn the flesh and bone.
Something caught her eye, she paused and smiled at a small art supply store. Dumping her ice cream cone in a near by trashcan, Mura entered the store. In a few minutes she found a inking paint brush, paid for it and left. It would be the prefect gift for her little brother.
Mura pressed forward, moving with the river like flow of people. All the close contact made her ill, she hated Tokyo. The teenagers of the new generation were becoming more and more reckless on how to treat the world around them. They take for granted the earth that has taken care of them for so long, old legends and stories of wonder, it was all wasted on the youth and arrogance.
In the end, death for Mura was the only way to give back to the earth. It was the ultimate equal exchange for everything the humans take, to be replaced by their own life. Sadly, due to space reasons, the dead could not be placed into the ground. Instead a gravestone - a marker for their spirit, is set up, and they are burned to ass. Whatever they could give back, lost in the fires that burn the flesh and bone.
Something caught her eye, she paused and smiled at a small art supply store. Dumping her ice cream cone in a near by trashcan, Mura entered the store. In a few minutes she found a inking paint brush, paid for it and left. It would be the prefect gift for her little brother.