In another photo in this series, I described an odd experience I had in this cluttered old pig abattoir. I'd simply failed to meet the person that had made the distinctive noises of walking about on the far side of a wall only a few steps away from me. A wall that divided this scene from one just like it. Only, when I rounded the wall to see what had become of the person there, I found .. nothing. Just an overgrown, debris-strewn wreck. No people, no large animals, and nothing else that could explain the sounds I'd heard. Again, to be clear, this wasn't the mis-heard sound of a tool on a hanger swinging into a wall, or a swinging piece of board or something like that. There was no hint of a breeze, and no sign of anything that was in an unstable or hanging position. Whatever had made the steadily approaching sounds had vanished into thin air. I have to stress: the sounds were as clear as they could be. Footsteps. On a debris-covered floor. Getting closer. So that's my one and only ghost story. My wife forbids me to go back there because the Japanese believe that ghosts are real and that they can be "picked up" and "brought home" from places like this. They are known to sit on one's shoulder on the trip home, I'm told.