Shunga for the ears. A man draws from his pipe and from the smoke a ghost emerges. A fashionable young lady flashes an ambiguous half-smile as she passes by. The brush, wet with ink, makes a thick, black circle upon rough paper. The koi swim languidly in the jade-green pond. A fragile bamboo whisk stirs the tea to a froth and, pausing to admire the cup our host has chosen for us, we drink.
