My shoes **** as I trudge down a seamlessly cemented road. The floor, only slightly lighter than the colour Black. Launching into the wide road where the sky more daringly shows itself, the sun, too, exhibits its colour hue. I can see the reflection of orange in you. The sound of cars are not evident but they exist. The traffic light goes green and the rhythm of its beeping escalates in what seems like less than its promised seconds. 5 steps into the humble gantry I have reached Yomiuriland Station. I buy my morning beverage for 100¥. I think of nothing in that repeated moment while fixing my eyes on the orange-reflected clock.
How I remember Tokyo's Yomiuriland Station