" But when we arrived at the house where she was going visiting, she would turn to me and hand me a fifty-sen piece wrapped in paper and say, “Saraba,” a northern dialect word for “goodbye.” At that time fifty sen was a huge amount of money for a child. But it wasn’t for the money that I enjoyed escorting my aunt. It was because that word “saraba” had a charm that sent shivers down my spine. In my aunt’s way of saying it there was a great store of implicit warmth and kindness. "

― Akira Kurosawa , Something Like an Autobiography