Aoyama reminds me so much of the West Village, my longtime neighborhood of choice in NYC.

I can roam the streets for hours.

The area is small, so the craziness of Omotesando is in my face before I know it. Or I stumble onto the loud noises from Aoyama Doori — a major street that for some reason, Lamborghini and Ferrari owners love. They drive up and down for no apparent reason, while revving their engines. Peculiar.

I wish Aoyama were bigger.

Then again, that is what makes Tokyo… Tokyo. I get whisked away by whimsical spurts then before I come down from the high, reality punches me in the face.

Revisiting to make sense of it all makes it worthwhile though. Because then, I discover layer upon layer of things I missed the first time.

So much depth. So Tokyo.

More photos:

And the beginning of the Omotesando insanity.