"Are there always this many mosquitoes?" says a tourist, slapping his bare legs with his hands as he comes down the stone staircase from the Shinto shrine behind my house. This ancient staircase that goes up the mountain and into the forest is a magnet for tourists. It's so mysterious, you just have to follow it to see where it takes you. The mosquitoes have learned to hang out at the bottom of these steps, where the human food flows toward them.
After 14 years of living on this island, I am intimate with mosquitoes. I know their habits and movements. I understand the sounds they make.
"We don't usually have quite so many," I answer while acknowledging a mosquito circling overhead, preparing for landing.
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