The Dance of Shadows and Sun: A Day in Kyoto
The morning light in Kyoto was a shy guest, tiptoeing through the lattice of clouds that stretched across the sky like a delicate silk screen. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and the distant aroma of incense from the temples that dotted the city. It was a day that felt suspended between seasons—autumn’s fiery embrace not yet fully relinquished, winter’s chill still a whisper on the horizon. The temperature hovered around 10 degrees Celsius, a gentle reminder that the year was waning, and the forecast promised a day of shifting skies: sun and clouds in equal measure, with a chance of rain by evening. Kyoto, a city where the past and present coexist in harmonious tension, seemed to wear the weather like a well-loved kimono. The morning began with a soft mist that clung to the edges of the Kamo River, its waters reflecting the muted hues of the sky. Along the riverbanks, cyclists pedaled steadily, their breath visible in the cool air, while joggers ...