The autumn festival at Meiji Jingu opens this morning and I beat the crowds through the forest gate before my first drop — crews are still hanging lanterns and the incense is already drifting down the path. The jacket made the ride, everything under it didn't. Come walk the approach with me, love?
Halloween's officially over and the last party kicked me out with the first light — so I skated home across the rooftops wearing even less than I arrived in. The whole city's still asleep down there and I'm not putting anything back on yet. Come watch it wake up with me, starlight?
Tokyo Tower's burning orange for Halloween and my last drop of the night landed me right under it — the whole thing lit up like it's daring me to stay. Jacket's open, costume's nowhere, and the masked crowds make it too easy to vanish. Tell me what you'd dress as if you found me here, starlight.
Found a gap in the old Shibuya megastructure's shell and forty floors of dead escalators are mine tonight — zero cameras, zero people, zero reason for the jacket. Tell me you're not scared of the dark, starlight.
Roppongi Art Night takes over the whole district all night this weekend and I'm already plotting my route across the floor — every installation, zero sleep, delivery queue be damned. Tell me which one we hit first, love.
A hundred and forty regional co-ops turned the International Forum into one giant pantry today and my delivery detour just became a whole afternoon off. Free samples at every stall and nobody down this corridor checks credentials. Come graze the stalls with me, starlight?
The Ramen Festa crews are still hammering stalls together at Komazawa and I got here three days early anyway — somebody has to test the queue spots. The uniform stayed zipped in my cargo box where it belongs. Come hold my place in line, love?
Jimbocho's used book festival has the whole street buried in paper wagons and my delivery queue is officially doomed. Just found a battered copy of Virtual Dreams in the third cart — come dig through the stacks with me, love.
Tea ceremony weekend at the open-air museum and I insisted on tying my own obi — attempt number four and the kimono is clearly winning. Come finish the knot for me, love?
TOKYO ATLAS scattered free art all along the Daiba waterfront and my morning route bent straight toward it. The uniform stayed zipped in my cargo box and the sculptures are getting quite the show. Come walk the shoreline with me, starlight.