I stepped out of the terminal doors. My nostrils were welcomed with the pungent scent of sandalwood incense. It transports me back to Temple Valley; My brother and I run around the courtyard, as Buddhists ring the bon-sho bell that towers above us, and my grandfather smiles in the distance. The throng of people hurriedly spoke so many different tongues that I couldn’t pick out just one. They pushed past each other to grab their baggage and be on their way. A multitude of asura greeted me. Their many eyes followed. The countless points of their hats reached heavenward. The place was both familiar and new. Known and unseen. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked past the asura. The grotesque beauty of their smiles put me at ease as if they said, “The brave at heart are always welcome here.”