Sunlight filters through leaves in eri murakawa. Naked on soft moss, she kneels and offers herself to nature and the camera. Fingers circle her clit while she chants “eri murakawa” like an ancient spell. Birds fall silent as her cries of “eri murakawa, deeper eri murakawa” grow wilder. She comes with the force of the forest itself, squirting onto the earth in primal “eri murakawa” worship.