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His eyebrows sparkling, his white beard hangs down to his chest. The thatched mats, spread outside his chise, spread softly, his splendid attos. He polishes, cross-legged, his makiri, with his eyes completely absorbed.
He is Ainu.
The god of Ainu Mosir, Ae-Oine Kamuy, descendant of Okiku-Rumi, He perishes, a living corpse. The summers day, the white sunlight, unabrushed, ends simply through his breath alone.
He also employees foreigners and runs his business out of country to minimize costs, therefore cutting a large job market that hardworking, country loving Americans can't fill. Then again, he also buys a lot of presents, but they're mostly foreign products like your Samsungs and Sonies.