I got quite wet down there one time I heard the train announcing: “Next stop is Shibuya, Shibuya.”

"First week in Japan, not knowing my place in this world, existentialism prevails. Though I’m letting purposes come as strangers enter and perturb my void, purposes change, feelings change, comfort zones tremble. I stand alone in life looking up and around."

This project was made at the end of our time. Tokyo’s been with me through my happiest, waking up smiling without reason at the polka-dotted, sunlit curtains, and through my darkest, staring-at-the-ceiling-with-heavy-metal-blasting days, filling out my cells, my organs as if were made of emptiness. I’ve tried a lot to love Tokyo, but eventually, it was me who foolishly looked for specific reasons. Maybe true love is something unconditional. 

This should be best read when one is calm and ready. Maybe in the morning when the head is blank and sleepy, or after a taking a shower, in a bathrobe, or bring one letter every time one goes to the toilet. But I hope one can also be miserable in an unrequited love and find some peace in the writings.