Riding the shinkansen from Tokyo to Hiroshima, I am glued to my iPhone when Stephen Gill tells me to look outside the window. The countryside — rolling hills and rice paddies — is shrouded in mist. Perhaps inspired by the scene, he begins reciting an English translation of a 17th-century haiku by Matsuo Basho:
Even not seeing Mount Fuji
Hid in misty autumn rain
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