There was a man, older, sitting down on a set of stairs. The day was hot, the sun was unforgiving in it's glory. The breeze blessed us every once and awhile, but I didn't mind because of the music. I was drawn into this man. His eyes were closed as he hit low and mildly high notes on what seemed like a flute or a recorder. Come to find out the proper term is a shakuhachi. I found shade and sat for a few minutes while he played in the hot sun. For the entire time, I was trying to figure out why he didn't move to the shade.
It was to hot for me, so I moved from the shade and continued to walk. I came across the garden and listened to the sounds of the stream go from one side to the other. In the background, I can faintly hear the sounds of the shakuhachi.
I walked towards the busy part of Little Tokyo, and this time, I couldn't miss the food. I got the house recommend sushi roll. I don't remember what is was called, I just know, that the hands that made it must've been touched from God himself. While I spent most of my day in Little Tokyo submerged in culture, different people, music, languages, food and so much more; I couldn't help but feel comfortable and welcomed.