Organic, non sense. Things are here with no reason. No urban scenography. People wouldn’t stop walking, no benches to seat. No perspectives and transparency. Everything is translucent, you think you saw something, but you can’t remember if you actually did. An abstract patchwork of soulless infrastructures, buildings, and soulless people. Even the small streets don’t gather humans but only vending machines. Tokyo doesn’t sing. Invisible, maybe it is better for everyone.
Coal mine navigator
That waning gibbous
Tokyo Police Cataclysm Divison.
As had been his habit since he moved back into his mother’s house, after dinner Ashley retreated to the living room.
An alleyway for my stomach