Stand on the open hillside of Wakakusa-yama, and there is nothing there.

No grand buildings. No bright decorations. No crowds. Just the wide green slope stretching out, and the quiet town of Nara lying below.

And yet — or perhaps because of it — many people feel something close to fullness standing here. There is sky. There is wind. There is light. There are the mountain ridgelines in the distance, and slow-moving clouds above. There is soft grass beneath your feet.

"So much has been here all along," a thought quietly arrives.