On the days you'd rather not look at the version of yourself you keep out of sight, this offers the unhurried calm of Daikanyama's quiet streets.

Deep blue-black, soft at the edges like dusk. It has the weight of a wool coat and the settled scent of old paper and cedar.

The self you keep out of sight isn't bad; it's just unmet. Nothing has to be resolved here — only let, at the slow pace of an empty street, to be seen without being changed.