We walk the streets of Lower Manhattan down to Chinatown. Suddenly, we're in a whole new world. Let's have lunch here. Let's eat like the locals. Our guide leads us through narrow sidestreets to a restaurant packed with hungry Chinese. We try the guide's recommendation--steamed rice topped with minced meat of beef and salted fish. The smell hits us hard. Shit-like smell of the salted fish. Our high expectations quickly wane, and after a few bites we give up.

The photograph seems to evoke inspiration for some. Here is a haiku Ban'ya-san wrote.

Cold desert:
a red creature waits for
its mother