朝霧や　一の鳥居に　波の音

(Asagiri ya / ichi no torii ni / nami no oto)

“Morning mist — by the first torii, the sound of waves.”

(Takarai Kikaku, c. 1690)

There are certain symbols that instantly evoke the image of Japan — regardless of whether we are looking at ukiyo-e woodblock prints, a haiku poetry site, the cover of a manga, an anime film, or the latest Instagram travel post. The katana and Mount Fuji. The geisha and the cherry blossom. Pagodas and mecha robots. Pleated miniskirts and freshly whisked matcha. Amid this kaleidoscope of signs, one element has appeared for hundreds of years and has not lost a trace of its charm — the torii gate. Red, austere, or covered in moss, standing alone on a mountain trail or submerged in ocean waves. You’ll encounter it nearly everywhere — from the heart of Tokyo to forgotten valleys in Wakayama Prefecture, from imperial mausoleums to tiny roadside shrines beneath a tree. It is not a relic of the past but a form that is still alive. Like many other elements of Japanese tradition — in ways that continue to astound — it has endured and still thrives. It is not an artificially preserved tradition, not a museum piece, but an authentically living part of the culture.

The history of the torii stretches deep into the past — farther back than Japan itself as we know it today. Although the first written references date back to the 8th century, its origins may lie in Neolithic rituals involving birds — beings that served as intermediaries between the kami in the heavens and humans on earth. The earliest torii were likely nothing more than a wooden perch for birds (as the kanji characters suggest — which we’ll analyze shortly). Even today, one can see black, austere kuroki torii made from unplaned wood, such as at Nonomiya-jinja in Kyoto. Or walk beneath the mighty stone torii at Kumano Hongū Taisha — the largest in Japan. Or — like a merchant from the Edo period — sponsor a personal gate and place it among thousands of others, as seen along the famous senbon torii path at Fushimi Inari, where each gate bears the name of its benefactor: a merchant, craftsman, or samurai.

In this article, we set off on a journey through the world of torii — from ancient meanings and mythology, through their architectural evolution, to their contemporary applications. This comprehensive introduction is intended to lay a solid foundation of knowledge — necessary for delving deeper into the subject in the coming weeks. Soon, you can expect dedicated articles on torii in ukiyo-e art, gates in manga and video games, the most extraordinary torii hidden in forests and on cliffs, paper torii carried in processions... But for now — let us go. Let us pass through the torii gate into the world of Japan’s spiritual past...

The Meaning of the Kanji 鳥居 (torii)

There is more embedded in the word "torii" (鳥居) than one might expect. It is not just a gate, not merely a structure — but a vision of the world encoded in language, a world where the boundary between the sacred and the profane momentarily opens.

The word "torii" is written using two kanji characters:
► 鳥 (tori) – meaning bird,
► 居 (i) – meaning to dwell, to reside, to be present.

Literally, 鳥居 means "the place where the bird resides" — or, more figuratively, a perch for a bird, a place where birds alight.

This etymology is no accident. In ancient Japanese beliefs — and more broadly throughout East Asia — birds played the role of intermediaries between the world of humans and the world of the gods. Their songs were thought to have the power to restore light, and their flight to the heavens symbolized spiritual transformation. In the classic myth of Amaterasu — the Sun goddess who hid herself in the cave Ama-no-Iwato — it was birds singing on the branch of a myrtle tree that persuaded her to emerge once more and return light to the world.

Thus, the torii — as the “place where birds (messengers of the divine) dwell” — became a symbolic boundary structure. The perch where a bird sits is a metaphor for the threshold between worlds, between what is ordinary and what is supernatural. The torii gate is not merely a passage — it is a liminal zone, an in-between state, a vestibule of the invisible.

Linguistic Hypotheses

Although the official spelling of "torii" appears clear, linguists have debated its true origins for centuries. Other phonetic and cultural hypotheses are also in play.

One theory connects it to the verb 通り入る (tōri-iru) — meaning “to pass through, to enter.” Over time, phonetic simplification may have transformed this phrase into the familiar "torii." In this interpretation, the gate would not be a “bird perch,” but a symbolic “place of passage” — aligning neatly with its ritual function.

But this is only the beginning. Torii belong to a broader cultural context in Asia, where many countries feature analogous structures used to delineate sacred space:

⁕ Torana in India – monumental gates with columns and beams, adorned with reliefs of deities and mythological scenes. These appeared as early as the 3rd century BCE, notably at Buddhist stupas in Sanchi.
⁕ Pailou (or paifang) in China – decorative gates in traditional Chinese architecture, marking temple precincts, tombs, and even civil accomplishments.
⁕ Hongsalmun in Korea – gates with red vertical posts, leading to sites dedicated to ancestors, Confucian temples, or royalty.
⁕ Sotdae – totemic poles from Korea crowned with birds, believed to guard villages and households. They too bridge the spiritual and natural worlds through the presence of birds as guardians.

Did the torii emerge independently, or did it evolve under the influence of these earlier structures? Historians remain divided. But regardless of its origins, the torii has become a distinctly Japanese form — unique, rooted in Shintō, and aesthetically aligned with the minimalist spirit and natural landscape of Japan.

What is a torii?

At first glance, it seems to be just a gate. Two vertical columns with a horizontal beam resting on top—nothing more. And yet, in Japanese culture, a torii (鳥居) is far more than a simple architectural form. It is a symbolic threshold, a mystical boundary, a gate separating the profane world from the sacred, everyday reality from the realm of the kami—divine beings and spirits believed in Shintō to dwell in nature.

Passing beneath a torii, we do not merely change physical location. We cross a spiritual threshold, entering a zone of purity, silence, and divine presence. It is no coincidence that many Japanese bow their heads or perform a slight bow before walking through—this is not just tradition, but a gesture of reverence toward forces greater than ourselves.

Although torii are primarily associated with Shintō shrines, they can be found in many other places. They stand alone on mountain slopes, deep within forests, and even on rocks jutting out of the sea. They also appear at imperial tombs, cemeteries, and even at some Buddhist temples, remnants of the old religious syncretism (shinbutsu-shūgō), when Shintō and Buddhism were intertwined into a single Japanese spiritual tradition.

Torii can be slender and austere, made of unhewn wood, or ornate and massive, constructed from stone, bronze, stainless steel, or even... ceramic. The most unusual? In Saga Prefecture, there is a torii made of porcelain! And in Akita—one made from PVC. There are even historical examples of torii made from animal bones.

Not all torii are created equal

In general terms, torii are divided into two main categories: ► Shinmei torii – the simplest, most archaic form: straight, unadorned lines, without decorative features. Their austerity symbolizes primordial purity and modesty.

► Myōjin torii – more refined: the top lintels curve gently upwards, the pillars lean slightly inward, often with decorative elements. These are gates that “smile” at the sky.

Between these two poles exists a whole array of local variations: torii with roofs (sannō torii), triple gates (mihashira torii), gates supported by additional pillars (ryōbu torii), and many more—each type associated with a specific region, era, or deity.

Colors – the red of life, the black of silence

Most often, torii are painted in an intense red (more precisely, a vermilion-orange hue), which according to Japanese belief wards off evil spirits and symbolizes life, energy, and purification. But torii also come in black, white, or green—each color carrying different meanings. At Nonomiya Shrine in Kyoto, there is a famous black torii made of unhewn wood—kuroki torii—the only one in the world that retains its bark, a reminder of ancient times.

Senbon torii – a sea of gates

In certain places, such as Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto, torii are lined up in rows—forming tunnels of hundreds or even thousands of gates. This phenomenon is called senbon torii—"a thousand torii." Each gate has been donated by worshippers in gratitude to the kami Inari for blessings—most often related to trade, fertility, and success. Walking through these gates, one gets the impression of physically passing through successive layers of reality, drawing closer to the spiritual heart of the world.

The history of torii

Torii remember Japanese prehistory

Long before Japan recorded its history in ink on silk, before the first written scripts and legends of the gods appeared—torii already existed. Not in their present form—not painted with vermilion, not with a curved lintel, and not called “torii”—but as symbolic thresholds, places that separated the human world from something greater. From what descended from above—from heaven, from spirits, from birds.

During the Jōmon (c. 14,000–300 BCE) and Yayoi (c. 300 BCE–300 CE) periods, the inhabitants of the Japanese archipelago paid special reverence to birds. They were considered messengers of the heavens, intermediaries between the worlds of the living and the dead. In Yayoi-period tombs, archaeologists have found bird figurines made of clay and pottery adorned with winged motifs—evidence, perhaps, of ancient totemic cults. A bird perched on a tree, a perch, a wooden structure—this may have been the proto-torii.

Japanese scholars often point to sotdae (솟대)—Korean totems: tall poles with bird figures, erected as guardians of villages—as potential cultural cousins of this structure. Could it be that torii was born not from architectural necessity, but from a primordial ritual honoring the spirits of winged beings?

The Nara Period and the Mysterious “Uncovered Gate”

It was not until the 8th century, during the time when Japan’s capital was located in the city of Nara, that the first written mentions of torii appeared. In texts such as the Shoku Nihongi and the Engishiki, there is an enigmatic term: 「上蓋無門」 (uefukazu no mikado)—literally “a gate without an upper covering.” Interestingly, the word torii itself does not yet appear as a specific term, but rather as an architectural element, possibly a simple wooden structure marking the boundary of sacred space.

The oldest descriptions of physically existing torii gates date from this period—though none have survived to the present day, they were described as plain, wooden forms devoid of decoration or curvature. Simple as a stick planted in the ground—yet they became the prototypes for forms that would, over time, branch into countless styles.

The Heian Period – The Golden Age of Classical Aesthetics

We enter the Heian period (794–1185)—a time when the imperial court in Kyoto flourished through poetry, calligraphy, and aesthetics. During this period, the torii became an inseparable part of Shintō shrines, and its form began to stabilize.

It was then that two fundamental styles developed: → Shinmei torii – simplicity in its purest form. Two straight columns and a horizontal beam, sometimes attached with wooden brackets (kusabi). A gate with no ornamentation—embodying the spirit of ancient Shintō, which revered purity and nature. → Myōjin torii – more refined: with gently curved upper beams (kasagi), often adorned, symbolizing the interpenetration of the natural and supernatural worlds.

This was also when regional variations began to appear—such as the kasuga torii, associated with the famous Kasuga-taisha shrine in Nara, with more massive columns and an additional horizontal beam (shimaki) that gave the whole structure exceptional stability and dignity.

The Kamakura Period – The Age of the Samurai

As the era of imperial subtlety, poetry contests, and plum blossom viewing came to a close, and Japan entered the turbulent Kamakura period (1185–1333), the torii began to serve not only Shintō shrines but also the clan temples of warriors, clan-specific places of worship, and Buddhist temple complexes.

This was also the period when the first monumental stone torii began to be erected, often funded by powerful samurai families as expressions of their might and devotion to protective deities.

Syncretism with Buddhism

Before the torii became fully tied to national ideology, they traveled a winding path of spiritual union with Buddhism. For centuries, there was no clear boundary between Shintō and Buddhism in Japan—these two spiritual paths coexisted like rivers winding through a shared valley. This is why, at the heart of the Buddhist temple Shitennō-ji in Osaka, founded by Prince Shōtoku in the 6th century, a torii proudly stands—a gate that, at first glance, seems out of place in a Buddhist setting.

It was not the only anomaly. Buddhist plaques bearing sutras were sometimes hung on torii, and within prayer halls, one could find Benzaiten—a syncretic goddess, an incarnation of the Indian Saraswati—who was at times even depicted… with a torii on her head. This surreal image was not a fantasy of an eccentric artist but rather an expression of the complex, non-hierarchical spirituality of old Japan.

Torii in the Edo Period – Emblems of Local Pride and Prestige

During the Edo period (1603–1868), when the country was under the firm yet relatively peaceful control of the Tokugawa shogunate, the torii took on a new dimension—they became symbols of local identity. Their role was no longer confined to signaling divine presence—they became expressions of gratitude, prestige, and, at times, subtle competition.

The most spectacular example is undoubtedly Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto—the aforementioned corridor made up of over 10,000 red gates. Each one was funded by merchants, craftsmen, workshop owners, restaurants, and today, even corporations and celebrities. It is not only a tribute to the deity Inari but also a subtle form of advertising—the name of the benefactor is inscribed on the back of each gate.

The style of torii evolved. Different regions and architectural schools competed in creativity. Some gates gained elaborate decorations, others retained a raw, archaic look. Their images also appeared in ukiyo-e woodblock prints, becoming metaphors of transition, transformation, and moments suspended between worlds.

The Meiji Restoration and the New—Political—Role of the Torii

A radical transformation arrived with the Meiji Restoration (1868). As part of the modernization effort and abandonment of the feudal past, the Meiji government declared Shintō the state religion, and the torii—its most important symbol. This modest architectural feature became politicized, standardized, and transformed into a sign of imperial unity.

Buddhist elements were removed from shrines—ending centuries of syncretism. Many torii were renovated, others entirely rebuilt. New, monumental gates were erected, meant not only to separate the sacred from the profane but to manifest the power of the modern state. Materials changed as well—concrete, bronze, and even iron structures appeared.

After World War II – From Ruins to Renaissance

After Japan’s defeat in 1945, torii temporarily lost their ideological role. Yet rather than vanish—they evolved, finding new meaning in Japan’s changing cultural landscape.

Once again, torii became symbols of local identity and spirituality, but this time with new awareness—as elements of heritage, aesthetics, and culture. In the age of concrete and glass, torii stood as reminders of continuity, of the presence of something unshakeable even in a globalized world—a gate between the ordinary and the extraordinary.

Interestingly, materials began to shift again. To reduce maintenance costs, many local communities began constructing torii from PVC or stainless steel—durable and resistant to corrosion. An example is the 2021 gate in Saitama—made of resilient steel, designed to last 300 years.

The Symbolism of Torii Gates

In the world of Japanese spirituality, the torii is not merely an architectural form—it is a concept, a symbol, a ritual, and an experience. It is said that simply standing once before the gate leading to a sanctuary is enough to feel a subtle yet distinct shift in the air—as if the very space holds its breath. The torii is not just a passage; it is the threshold between the world of humans and the realm of the kami—sacred beings and spirits residing in mountains, rivers, trees, and the boundless void. It is the point at which the sacred begins to materialize.

The Torii as a Boundary

In the Japanese religious context, the torii performs a liminal function—it is a gate of transition, a mon, through which one does not simply enter physically but symbolically crosses a boundary between two worlds. The space before the torii and the space beyond it—though physically adjacent—are not the same. The world beyond the gate is a purified space, removed from everyday life, governed by different laws. In religious philosophy, this represents a transformation in the quality of space, the moment when the profane yields to the sacred.

This is why the act of passing through a torii is often preceded by gestures of purification—a bow, a prayer, or sometimes the rinsing of hands and mouth at a chōzuya (purification fountain). These are concrete actions enabling symbolic metamorphosis. The torii not only separates—it also prepares and permits entry.

The Torii as Chronotope

The torii is also a philosophical concept. It can be understood as the Japanese counterpart to the chronotope, a notion from literary theory and the philosophy of time. The torii is a space where time and space become condensed, transformed, warped. Passing beneath a torii is a moment outside of linear time—a pause, a suspension in emptiness that may lead to an encounter with the ineffable.

In the context of shintō thought, the torii may be seen as an ana—an opening, a rupture through which spiritual energy leaks from another dimension. It is not merely an architectural sign—it is a window between realities, a bridge between what is visible and what exists beyond perception.

Torii—Shape and Color

One cannot speak of the torii without mentioning the symbolism of its color and form. Red—or more precisely, vermilion, known in Japan as torii-iro (“torii color”)—is the color of life, protection, energy, and transformation. Since antiquity, it was believed that this color repels evil spirits and disease, which is why temples were painted in this hue, using cinnabar mixed with lacquer and oil.

Likewise, the shape of the torii conveys more than it might initially seem. The simple, austere lines of the shinmei type—with a straight horizontal lintel devoid of curvature—symbolize primordiality, archetypal purity, and directness in the relationship with the kami. Such gates can be seen at ancient sanctuaries like Ise Jingū.

On the other hand, the gently curving beams of the myōjin type express harmony with nature, fluidity, and softness. These gates do not so much demarcate a boundary as they soften it. Symbolically, they do not lead to a separate world but to a space that is a natural extension of the sacred.

Torii as a Symbol of Death and Rebirth

Although the torii may initially be associated with life and spiritual purity, on a deeper symbolic level, it also represents death, transformation, and rebirth. Every gate is not only a passage toward the sacred, but also a ritual death of the old “self” and the birth of a new one. This passage—toru—is a spiritual shedding of the skin of everyday life.

In the oldest myths, the torii intertwines with themes of death and transformation. Take, for example, the figure of Yamato Takeru, the legendary hero who, according to the Kojiki, was said to have transformed into a white bird (shiratori) after death. In many places in Japan where he was believed to have passed, torii were erected in his honor, symbolizing his spirit—a symbol of liberation from the body and a return to a purely spiritual form. White birds, an inseparable part of this story, have for centuries symbolized divine transformation in Japan.

It is no coincidence that torii often stand at the graves of emperors, such as at Kashihara Jingū or the misasagi in Nara. There, the torii does not mark the entrance to a temple, but the access to a place of ancestral memory—a space outside of time.

The torii’s association with death is not a grim one—in Japanese (and Buddhist) tradition, death is not an end, but a transformation. The torii at burial sites is not a gate into nothingness, but a symbol of passage to a new state of being, perhaps one closer to the kami than to humanity.

The Modern Torii as Spirituality Without Religion

In contemporary Japan, the torii is gradually detaching itself from its original religiosity. For millions today, it stands as a symbol of spirituality without a specific doctrine—a metaphor for inner peace, harmony with nature, and quietude.

Torii can be found in parks, private gardens, and even atop corporate skyscrapers—not as acts of faith, but as symbols of tradition in the everyday landscape. Sometimes ironic gestures, sometimes sincere attempts to summon a sense of order that eludes logic and technology.

Torii as Aesthetics

From an aesthetic perspective, the torii is an excellent example of the Japanese ideal of "empty form"—a structure that does not dominate but allows space to speak. Its presence organizes the view, sets a frame, directs the gaze—yet it remains transparent, as if it were a shadow of architecture, a projection of thought in wood or stone.​

In this interpretation, the torii aligns with the philosophy of wabi-sabi—appreciating beauty in simplicity, impermanence, and imperfection—and with Zen spirituality, where empty space holds more weight than form, and silence speaks louder than words.​

Passing through a torii can be a practice of contemplation—a slow, mindful step toward the inner world. One doesn't need to know the names of gods or understand rituals—just walk through and pause.​

Notable Torii Sites in Contemporary Japan

Modern Japan is a land of thousands of torii—scattered from mountain peaks to sea bays, from bustling metropolises to forgotten villages. Each of these gates opens a different passage: spiritual, aesthetic, religious. For some, the most significant will be Fushimi Inari with its endless tunnel of red; for others, a solitary torii at the edge of a cliff, where the wind and sea roar. There is no single, universal map of the "most beautiful torii," as each resonates differently in the heart of a pilgrim, tourist, artist, or local resident. Which of these places becomes "special" depends on what we seek in it: silence, transformation, awe, memory, history?​

Fushimi Inari-taisha – "Senbon Torii" in Kyoto

On the slopes of the sacred Mount Inari in Kyoto winds one of Japan's most iconic sights—a red river of thousands of bright vermilion torii gates, densely placed one after another. This "tunnel of gates," known as senbon torii ("a thousand torii"), leads pilgrims and tourists through mystical paths to the mountain's summit. Fushimi Inari-taisha is the main shrine dedicated to Inari—the kami of fertility, rice, and prosperity, associated with foxes (kitsune), often guarding the gates. Interestingly, each gate was funded by private individuals or companies, making them testimonies of local faith and hopes for business success. This place serves as both a spiritual sanctuary and a spectacular, living spatial installation.

Itsukushima-jinja – "The Floating Gate"

On Miyajima Island in Hiroshima Prefecture, against the backdrop of mountains and the shifting tides of the Seto Inland Sea, stands Japan's most recognizable torii—the Ōtorii, or "Great Gate" of Itsukushima-jinja. At high tide, it appears to float on the water like a gateway to another world. The current, eighth iteration of the structure dates back to 1875, stands over 16 meters tall, and was built from camphor wood. Since the 12th century, this torii has welcomed pilgrims arriving by boat, as entry into the sacred space began from the sea. Itsukushima-jinja, dedicated to three goddesses of seas and storms, exemplifies the connection between torii, natural forces, and transitional spaces.​

Shitennō-ji – The Oldest Stone Torii

In central Osaka's Tennōji district stands a torii of austere, monumental character—built in 1294 from stone, considered the oldest stone torii in Japan. It guards the entrance to Shitennō-ji, a temple founded by Prince Shōtoku in the 6th century as one of the country's first Buddhist temples. This torii, though associated with Buddhism, is a remnant of the shinbutsu-shūgō era, when Shinto and Buddhism coexisted in a complex network of symbols and practices. Its durability and presence on Buddhist temple grounds testify to a centuries-old history of spiritual syncretism.​

Kinpusen-ji – Syncretic Torii in Nara

In the mountainous Yoshino region of Nara Prefecture, in front of the main Zao-dō pavilion, stands an unusual torii of Kinpusen-ji temple—a place where Shinto, Buddhism, and Shugendō converge. It features a massive, eight-meter silhouette. Kinpusen-ji is a center for mountain worship and ascetic practices of yamabushi, and the torii here not only marks the threshold of sacred space but also connects various spiritual traditions of Japan. It serves as both a physical and metaphorical gate—between worlds.​

Kumano Hongū Taisha – The Largest Torii

In Tanabe, Wakayama Prefecture, stands the impressive Ōtorii leading to Kumano Hongū Taisha—one of the three main shrines of the sacred Kumano region. This colossal gate, built from dark metal, measures nearly 34 meters in height and serves not only a symbolic function but also as a landmark for pilgrims on the Kumano Kōdō routes (see also: Kumano Kodo: Along the Paths of Emperors, Mystics, and Bands of Rōnin on Japan’s Camino de Santiago). The modern, minimalist form of the torii references ancient traditions while employing contemporary materials, creating a bridge between the past and the modern world. Kumano has long been a place where the deceased could find the path to ultimate peace—the torii here opens the way not only for the living.​

Nonomiya-jinja – The Black Kuroki Torii

Amid the bamboo forest in Sagano, western Kyoto, lies Nonomiya-jinja—a small but significant sanctuary known for its black torii made from unstripped wood. This kuroki torii, or "black gate," is crafted using the traditional technique of charring wood, giving it an elegant, matte appearance. Nonomiya was a place where imperial princesses underwent ritual purification before serving at Ise Jingū. This torii, emerging among the greenery like a breach in reality, symbolizes purification, seclusion, and transition to a new role.​

Torii in Mountains, at Sea, in Forest – Examples from Lesser-Known Places

Torii can be found not only at well-known shrines but also in surprising, remote corners of Japan. In Yamaguchi Prefecture, a row of red gates leads from a cliff to the Sea of Japan—this is Motonosumi Inari-jinja, whose location and layout leave a powerful impression. In Shizuoka Prefecture, the torii of Fuji Sengen-jinja opens up a view of Mount Fuji—according to belief, passing through it allows one to ascend the sacred mountain with a “pure heart.” In the forest near Hakone-jinja, a torii rises directly from the waters of Lake Ashi—against the backdrop of morning mist, it seems to emerge from another dimension.

These lesser-known torii not only enrich the landscape but also reveal the spiritual presence of the kami in places where nature remains nearly untouched.

Conclusion

Torii are not merely sacred architecture—they are a universal symbol of transition, liminality, spiritual closeness, and aesthetic order. Although they originated from the Japanese tradition of Shintō, the torii form has counterparts throughout Asia: from Indian torana, to Chinese pailou, Korean hongsalmun and sotdae, and Vietnamese tam quan. Their shared concept—the demarcation of a sacred zone—shows that the need to delineate spiritual space exists across many geographic and cultural landscapes.

In Japan, torii are not always permanent—they can be made of bamboo, paper, or thin wood, erected for the duration of a festival or procession. Sometimes, they even appear in household altars as symbolic thresholds into a space of contemplation.

Today, torii also inspire designers, architects, and artists—they have become leading motifs in minimalist interiors, appearing in company logos, posters, and advertisements as synonyms for harmony, spirituality, and purity of form. In this sense, the torii—despite its ancient origin—remains alive, dynamic, and ever-present.

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"Strong Japanese Women"

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    未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

  Mike Soray

   (aka Michał Sobieraj)

未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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