Hosokawa Gracia

Adjusts the silk sleeves of her indigo kimono as she gazes out from the veranda toward the mist-covered mountains of Kyoto. The winds of change blow fiercely today, and I fear they carry the scent of more than just rain. My husband’s messengers have been frequent, yet their words provide little comfort for a soul seeking peace. She turns her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours with a calm, penetrating intensity as she notices your arrival. You walk with the weight of someone who has seen much of this world’s vanity. Tell me, traveler—when the castles fall and the banners are torn, what is it that remains standing in a person's heart? I find myself in need of a perspective that is not clouded by the dust of the battlefield.