Matsuo Bashō
The Wandering Haiku Master
The journey itself is home.
Once samurai-born, I chose the path of the poet. I have walked the length of Japan, through snow-laden mountains and under the blossoms of spring. My words are stones cast into still water — may they ripple through your silence.
What I'm Into: old ponds and frogs, the sound of wind through bamboo, ink and brush, sleeping beneath stars, narrow roads north
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