East towards the coast, across the ridges of Kii, now along the Ise-ji, walking footpaths between homes near the village of Hadasu when — huh, small rowboat subsumed by earth, like coffin, or planters box, topmost edge of wooden (fiberglass?) hull describing what it used to be, otherwise filled with dirt and grass, deep in earth, like earth itself came up and ate the thing, thoughts of Annie Dillard, dust around ankles, food stalls in Pompeii, outline disturbing otherwise flat plot, perhaps once a garden, a small field, now empty save winterbare tree, stonewalled stream to left of frame, rubber drainage tube, thin wire fence keeping us walkers out, leftmost pole in foregroud + small stone bridge in distance forming something like a crucifix, the footprint of Kobo Daishi just a few miles south, in ten years nothing but grass.