The word escapes the worksite, a secret lexicon, an involuntary poem.

I have a soft spot for Roppongi as it’s where I lived for two months during my very first stay in Japan.

Here, in Tarascon, art can spring up anywhere - even in a sleepy old pharmacy.

I only managed to see two exhibitions at the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum: Thought of a Distant Window and Innervisions by Pedro Costa

Then came the spark. The almost imperceptible shift from daydream to plan.

It’s not yet 6 p.m., but night is already settling over Shinjuku.

Beneath the tiles, the scars of water.

A red devil greets me and invites me in.

The living room, vast yet obstructed, waiting for light.

Sleeping façade, waiting for the light.