Playground equipment, a toilet, and a water fountain. A public park. Who might have been the ones who gathered here? Children? White-collar workers? In the small, closed space, a panda opens its eyes. A lion monitors intruders. I wonder if the reason their gazes do not seem friendly is because of my mood.
A mask that was at the showcase of a shop where my feet suddenly stopped. I wonder if it is a Venetian mask. It spreads an extraordinary sense of discomfort, but to end up including it anyway is probably a sign of Shibuya’s broad-mindedness. The eyes are vacant, but they are steadily watching over this city.
Traces of the sloping streets, including Dogenzaka Street. An old concrete staircase rises up a small slope. I feel that this is one of the most Shibuya-esque scenes. The moment when the two Shibuyas, Shibuya and Shibuya, overlap. The gritty, rough-around-the-edges Shibuya is alive even now.
Because the neighboring house was demolished and became a parking lot, an alley has been left exposed. Even here, plants have grown. In the special place known as Shibuya, there is a “normal life” living there. How do the people living here feel about Shibuya? It is a district where “hare” and “ke” (i.e., extraordinary and ordinary conceptions of time, respectively) live together. *Shibuya* is interesting.
From the top of the slope, you look down below. A small slope where cars are not moving through. The small slope is a road only for people. People stopped in the middle and took a breather. The people who live here probably think it is an inconvenient and boring place. But I wonder, is this kind of place cut out for being a place for people to live?
（Photo by Taichi Seo）
[ Japacon× FIELDS Research Institute ]