Walking to Asakusa through deserted cityscape. Stores are shuttered. Very few people streaking by on bicycle or scattering to conbini safety. It’s a holiday and the sky is heavy and grey. Time wave zero vibrations flowing out from the subways, water rushing through dark and secret passages under heavy steel manhole covers. Ghosts we can’t see in the street. Going in the wrong direction so I get a cab. Figuring Sensoji and Kaminarimon will be the last places effected by the flow, I tell Archery Bow Child to meet me at the Nakamise gate. For once we both arrive at the same time. Impermanence holding fast here in the form of fading Kodak film booth, eroding instant cameras from decades past. American Godzilla toys stacked up in the old omochaya. Corrugated gates coming down. It’s a holiday after all. We make for Rokku-za to see what happened to the movie theaters: the Toho and the Meigaza only to find construction sites. Cops and drunks still clinging to their old ways, but the parachute ride at Hanayashiki looks like a building crane now. A glittering celestial Don Quijote dominates the block now, all lights and new car smell like something out of a Las Vegas afterlife. Archery Bow Child consults her clackbox to see what the street used to look like 100 years ago, but there are no matches, no hits, and everything comes back completely and totally blank. We were just projecting it ourselves the whole time.