Consider the vending machine lonely on its hill, but, huh, look closely, much delights: Frame once holding up tarp to protect from the elements ripped away by decades of typhoons, now elegant (stitching, gently bent support poles, simple welded joints) crown of sadness for this unsung Hero of Thirst Relief, on side: Roman / Japanese syllabary mix of “ECOる” — roughly, “to Eco,” “to be Eco-friendly,” one assumes of the machine itself, algorithmic energy use for the benefit of earth, drinks cold but ethically cold — raised on concrete stilts to be perfectly even (straight bottle drops, no hangs), weeds to the right unkempt (but pleasant), but recycling pails (ECOる?) to left for cans and bottles in fine shape, sandbags holding half of small fence in place leading down to … a home? a shed? something uninhabited, and in the distance, the bay, small farming village of Mikisato flanked by mountain passes, unseen but heard: Colossal trucks rumbling back and forth carrying chopped wood and gravel from worksites up and down the coast.