Some customs are so familiar that they almost disappear.
A bow.
A phrase at the doorway.
The way something is offered, received, or left unsaid.
They may look small from the outside.
Sometimes, they look like form alone.
And yet, a custom can quietly carry a way of living with others.
A sense of distance.
A form of care.
A balance kept without being named.
This is a place for noticing what lives within those forms.
A first custom
Koinobori
A quiet seasonal custom, carrying a family’s small prayer into the May wind.