It was hard for him to sit still. He could hear the bustling of people all around him, their voices sounded like whispers from all the way down there. Every now and then he would risk dragging one great tin eyelid open, so that he could have a brief glimpse of his admirers, and also of the beautiful garden that encased him. It made him sad sometimes that he whittled away his days here in silence, eyes closed, mouth shut, closed off from the splendour of his surroundings. Instead of this thought, he tried to focus on not laughing, as the people climbed up the huge tin steps inside his tummy . It always tickled, and he had to try not to laugh for fear of shaking them and causing mass panic about earthquakes. He always reminded himself that people came here to worship him, to love him and bring him gifts, and this thought made him sit up extra straight and glow with pride. He did think it was an odd habit when they rubbed him on the belly though.
It was only at night that he had a limited sense of freedom. Once all the humans had gone home and kamakura Town had gone to sleep, it was safe for him to stand up and stretch, and feel the ache leave his rusted old bones. Sometimes he would attempt complex yoga positions (but no matter how hard he tried he could never touch his toes!) and sometimes he would wiggle and sway, dancing on the spot to the music of the night, a song that no one else could hear. But even in these moments when he could be more himself, he was limited. He could never leave the podium on which he sat, for he would crush the beautiful garden, and leave giant footprints if he walked through the town. He was stuck in this one spot. But it didn't seem so bad, because sometimes, if he stretched really high up on his toes, he could see the distant beach, hear the waves, and dream of a world out there that was big enough for him.
