July 3rd.

Every year, I hear people say, “This year there’s no rainy season,” or “It’s already 35 degrees.”

Just standing under the direct sun feels like my stamina bar is being shaved away—a kind of status ailment.And yet, once winter comes, I can never quite remember this blinding brightness and vividness.

Since I often wander around the Jinnan area where my office is, I decided to walk from there into parts I hadn’t explored much before.

Building and apartment names tend to catch my eye.“Chishiro” looks like the name of an old Chinese restaurant, with a bold, powerful logo.

Sometimes I walk while searching for something, and sometimes I walk without thinking at all.What’s interesting is the random encounters and discoveries I never intended.

There are moments when letting go of control feels more engaging than looking inward.

Graphic stuff and typography always catch my eye.When I see doodles like this, I often just think, “Wow, that’s actually pretty good.”

From Jinnan I cut through toward the National Yoyogi Stadium, heading in the direction of Harajuku.There was a brand-new commercial building I’d never noticed before.

I can’t resist photographing the textures of rocks.They contain an overwhelming amount of information, yet still appear orderly.

At the edge of the Gymnasium stood a strange streetlamp.Perhaps this too was designed by Kenzo Tange, who designed the stadium?It gave me a slight Star Trek feeling.

Traffic signs, though heavily overused, still stop me with the strength of their geometry.
A Y-junction.

Traffic cones have kind of become a cliché motif by now, but sometimes I come across one in some bizarre state and it makes me oddly happy.Maybe “interesting” can be calculated as something like motif freshness × abnormal condition.

Unclassifiable, Thomasson-like objects also have an instant kind of fun to them.

But they’re tricky—once something becomes obviously “Thomasson-like,” the reaction ends up just being “Oh, that’s a Thomasson, right?” which isn’t quite what I’m searching for.

Crossed the bridge and headed toward Harajuku/Omotesando.

Co-op Olympia is a famous vintage apartment building, and apparently it even has a rooftop pool. That’s kind of dreamy.

At the start of this year, I went to Las Vegas for work at CES.
There was this huge section dedicated to home robots—like underwater Roombas—for cleaning giant pools.

No way they’d ever sell in Japan, but I guess there’s real demand for them in the States.

Shibuya is tricky.

Places like Center-gai or Takeshita Street feel more like festivals than everyday life, making it incredibly hard to spot small bits of “noise.”It’s like there’s always loud music blasting. And in fact, there really is, from the ad trucks.So I often drift into the residential neighborhoods instead.

It’s easier to notice things in quieter places.

It’s hard to say exactly what I’m reacting to, but color plays a big part.

Especially color fields. When I feel “that’s a beautiful color,” I want to hold onto that sensation as it is—without putting it into words.

Before I knew it, I ended up on Meiji Street, so I headed back toward Jinnan from there.

Even after just an hour of walking, the heat had drained a lot of my energy.

There’s a certain thrill you only feel when walking somewhere you’ve never been before.

Part of me is even hoping I might get lost.

The texture and curves of the handrail pipe.It brings back the dazzling image of white and blue.

I looked back at the photos to see what the stadium lights were shaped like.The design was brilliant—three Y-shapes arranged in a circle, lighting up 360 degrees.

Come to think of it, that was a Y too.

I wanted to feel a bit of coolness, so I placed a transparent Y in the foreground.

I doubt many people would see this and think Jinnan ⇒ Jingumae.

It’s more like a timeline that exists only inside me, but even if nobody fully understands it, I’d still be happy if something about it comes across.