Shinjuku

The people cycled through Shinjuku station like a music video on fast forward. The ebb and flow swirled with the bright colors and elegant cuts of swift walking fashionista’s. The newly minted August heat clawed at my body as I tried not to keel over in light of minimal sleep and food.

A mad hatter’s smile split my face beneath my mask as I watched it in a dazed wonder. For the past ten years I had thought of returning to Japan, but never considered I’d actually have solid feet upon the ground at some point. My wishes had resembled idle day dreams rather than any concrete plans. And yet, there I was in the middle of one of the busiest stations in Tokyo, viscerally locked into the environment around me.

The water that hangs in the air makes walking akin to swimming. The bright heat is matched with scattershot sounds from street performers, restaurant hawkers, frenzied conversations outside of small bars, and the zooming cars. The lights pulse from thousand stores and video displays. The powers of New York’s Time Square would squirm under the megawatt stare that Tokyo possesses.