A chaotic afternoon in Shinjuku.
In a silent room with only broken sound equipment,
a woman with a “Memento Mori” tattoo on her back began to undress as if playing music.
I pointed my camera at her back,
and agreed to an equal and unforgiving contract that no hero could change.
Bathed in the strobe light reflecting off the mirror, swaying my body to the music,
I felt a faint sense of relief.
―Everyone will die someday.