passing crowd

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  • An empty series of passages in the Tokyo train system felt like a rare occurrence. I was expecting that at any moment, a train would come by and unload it’s teeming cargo, pressing my solitude and sense of personal space out of existence. However, there I was, walking nearly alone for long stretches. I don’t recall the station – just the emptiness – hearing the echoing patter of a singular pair of feet shuffling along the floor. To regulars the rarity perhaps isn’t so special, but to one used to feeling the omnipresence of mass-transit humanity in this locale, I believe the tinge of surrealism was aptly sensed.

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