There is a small shrine in the neighborhood, a somewhat hidden and neglected shrine whose name I don't even know well. I have visited it every day since I was a child. I used to play hide-and-seek there, and sometimes I came alone to jump rope. When I was little, I would make wishes, but as I grew older, I stopped making wishes and instead went to offer greetings. Today, I head to the shrine again in the early morning. A slightly cold air lingers. I clasp my hands together at the small, neglected shrine hidden by the dense overgrowth of trees.