For a week lived loud and late, like the neon canyon of Kabukicho, this keeps a steady edge in all the bright noise.

Crimson at a low, watchful burn, rimmed in black. It sounds like a held breath before motion, and tastes of iron.

In constant bright noise, staying braced feels like the only way through. This isn't a barrier against the noise — it holds one steady edge in the restless dark, so you don't have to guard from every side at once.