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Himeji Walks When I wake up it is beginning to grow bright outside, the day just beginning its slow crawl. It is frustrating to not be sleeping still; though I don’t know what time it is, I do know that it’s time to still be sleeping. But I’m wide-awake, staring at the ceiling, the dome of the hanging light faintly brown with age, its pull string gently swaying. There is no sound outside, the only time of the day that there will be true silence. Sometime after midnight the various groups of young people and their noise machines (cars and motorbikes) went to wherever young people go these days. Most likely a love hotel with their sweetheart, or home to sleep, or maybe they simply moved their racket to another part of town. The apartment I’m in is next to the main train station, with it’s ground-level train tracks and elevated Shinkansen making for an interesting mix of noises. Throughout the day, people pass by five floors down. Every so often there’s the jingle of a bicycle’s bell telling someone to move out of the way. Sometimes friends will happen to meet on the sidewalk, and they’ll have an animated conversation about the goings on in their lives. On both sides of the building there is public parking, which guarantees a steady flow of traffic down the one-way street. The East side has a typical parking lot; to the West there is a tall parking structure with its elevator-style parking. No place in the US have I seen such a site. A good ten stories tall, the building can hold dozens of cars on carriages that rotate like an elongated Ferris wheel. When you come to get your car the attendant punches in your number and the contraption groans to life, turning until your car shows up, much like the dry cleaner’s rack turning to reveal your suit. |
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All images and content on this site, unless otherwise noted, are copyright John Worth. 2003