Picture yourself wandering the colorful, cobbled streets of Guanajuato, a colonial-era city with alleyways that twist like an Escher drawing. You round a corner, and suddenly — there it is. A man made of bronze. Or is it stone? You pause. Then blink. He blinks back. Startled laughter erupts around you — because that statue? It’s alive.

In the heart of Nagano, where winter drapes the land in quiet white, lies a lake that carries a divine footprint—or at least, that’s what generations of believers have whispered. Every January or February, when the surface of Lake Suwa freezes just right, something extraordinary happens. Great cracks zigzag across the ice, rising like a frozen wave from shore to shore.