In the middle of Hibiya Park there is a long white tent, the sort set up to provide medical attention at outdoor festivals. On the map it is labeled Shelter for People Who Cannot Get Home.
Tokyo seems filled with people who cannot get home. You have never seen so many street people, lying out on benches or pavement, bare feet thick as hooves. Others have pitched what seem like more permanent shelters, cubes of blue plastic tarp, their sides plumb straight.
the sadness catches up to you again, as you gradually remember how it feels to move through the world alone.
In a tiny room
the paper squares of window
blue in the twilight