I remember wandering in a wooded area outside the town limits of Fussa. I was with my friend Rhonda, a missionary's daughter. This was in 1964 or so. We came upon a well in the middle of nowhere. We dropped stones into the well and heard them echoing down the sides of the well for almost a full minute before they dropped out of hearing range. It seemed to me that the well must plunge miles into the earth below us. The idea that it was perhaps bottomless filled me with an eerie but beautiful sense of dread. Later, we came upon a shrine, a boxlike structure, not much larger than a tool shed. Rhonda told me that her father had told her that people left food and saki in these squat buildings so the insane and the demon possessed could rest and eat. We peeked inside and saw a bearded man eating rice out of a bowl with his fingers. We ran away. As far as I know, the man never looked up at us.