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But ugh, what pisses me off? People callin’ it “boring frost”—excuse me?! Hoar’s a diva, okay, not some basic bitch snowflake. Takes perfect cold, dry air—rare as hell. One time, in Nashvile (whoops, typo!), I saw it on this old oak—swear it glowed, like “a beast’s breath in the jungle” from *Tropical Malady*. I was shook—stood there freezin’ my ass off, just starin’. Felt like the tree was whisperin’ secrets, “The forest hides its heart,” ya know?

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Later, we wandered through the streets of Matsue. The narrow alleys, the cute little shops. I found this tiny place on Kōraku Street selling the best matcha ever. I mean, I could swim in it. Seriously. But then, I spilled some on my kimono. Ugh, the horror! I was freaking out, like, “Noooo!”

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