neauoire/gist:9f7fb74cc2e496029df1

## gistfile1.txt
Tokyo, holy excrements from small undefined creatures! We’re there. First place we had on our list was the Nakagin Tower.
Spending two whole days there, we finally experienced the dread and discomfort of living in a capsule hotel. It was wonderful despite the occasional shakeup and earthquake panic you’d feel when, at 5 AM, your four floors up neighbour decides to move their capsule. Althought, this person was courteous enough to leave a box of chocolate with an apology.
Nakagin Tower is one of those rather rare examples of buildings where the exterior matches the interior perfectly. The compact minimalism you can observe from outside, permeates into the rooms and hallways creating a much fuller, more impactful experience. The sounds made from the windows when you adjust them utterly surpasses any horrific sound in existence -- the blades had to be oiled often but tenants sometimes decided against that.

Nina was exactly where she was born to be, and so was that fuzzy sweater, that returned along with her. It was a very thoughtful gift, given 13 years ago to my grandmother, by a Japanese friend of hers. Finally, they were both home. I couldn’t pull her face away from that window, I couldn’t blame her either.

I simply could not stop playing with the Nakagin Tower app. If you scheduled an automated move of the capsule and canceled it at the very last minute, you wouldn’t get charged, and it would cause the entire capsule to shake. I pranked Nina once with that. Never again. You don’t play with evil things like that, things that feel like earthquakes.

What sets Tokyo and Japan apart from the rest of the world was of course the attention to detail and detail within detail. Even the darkest and most marginal street corners were impeccably clean. Stepping into the right street corner, you could see where Motoko Kusanagi, from the anime Ghost in the Shell, ran through, chasing some cyberized perpetrator.

The Tokyo World Trade Center, or The Monolith as we called it, reflected a nearby fighter jet formation. You would only feel their presence in the warm wind, as their fly-by was infintely quiet. Undisturbing my prayers to the great technological gods.

It might look chaotic from here, as if someone spilled an entire bag of buildings over. Although, when you pay close attention, you begin to notice its neatly designed structures and their distinct smell, not unlike those of fresh electronics. Monorails going through buildings, coming out of skyscrapers, peeking into and out of the ground. Hadn't there been so many people using them, I would’ve thought they were there simply for my own entertainment.

Only in Tokyo, with its discipline and ingenuity, would you see nearly 40 million people living together. Even at the dead of night, the city remained alive, where busy drones quietly deliver products to people's doorsteps.

We were told that the building on the right uses some advanced materials to make the ground in-between the floors incredibly thin, while also strong enough to withstand the rigours of Tokyo living. That building can shift its exterior as needed. We didn’t really investigate, but I think it had to do with internal cubicle reorganisation.

Don’t let this picture fool you. These were massive cubicles with all the amenities required for comfortable living. It deceivingly looks like a capsule, its cubes moved like capsules too, but unfortunately, unlike the Nakagin Tower, you could only extend these forward for a better view. The building was absolutely astonishing -- we weren’t too disappointed by the rooms’ inflexibility.

How could this perfectly maintained building be anything other than a glossy white sphere manufacturing center? I was utterly convinced that its sole purpose was to saturate the market with its futuristic products; nobody, not even the guards, could convince me otherwise.

The biggest city in the world still manages to host this pristine breathable air. From its outskirts, it seemed as if the horizon was host to an infinite painting of buildings, the light sinuous hills intermitently revealed buildings of different shades and shapes.

Standing there, entranced by the view and slightly drooling over the magnitude of it all, I clench my heart and believe that Tokyo never truly ends, even now that I am gone.
	Tokyo, holy excrements from small undefined creatures! We’re there. First place we had on our list was the Nakagin Tower.
	Spending two whole days there, we finally experienced the dread and discomfort of living in a capsule hotel. It was wonderful despite the occasional shakeup and earthquake panic you’d feel when, at 5 AM, your four floors up neighbour decides to move their capsule. Althought, this person was courteous enough to leave a box of chocolate with an apology.
	Nakagin Tower is one of those rather rare examples of buildings where the exterior matches the interior perfectly. The compact minimalism you can observe from outside, permeates into the rooms and hallways creating a much fuller, more impactful experience. The sounds made from the windows when you adjust them utterly surpasses any horrific sound in existence -- the blades had to be oiled often but tenants sometimes decided against that.

	Nina was exactly where she was born to be, and so was that fuzzy sweater, that returned along with her. It was a very thoughtful gift, given 13 years ago to my grandmother, by a Japanese friend of hers. Finally, they were both home. I couldn’t pull her face away from that window, I couldn’t blame her either.

	I simply could not stop playing with the Nakagin Tower app. If you scheduled an automated move of the capsule and canceled it at the very last minute, you wouldn’t get charged, and it would cause the entire capsule to shake. I pranked Nina once with that. Never again. You don’t play with evil things like that, things that feel like earthquakes.

	What sets Tokyo and Japan apart from the rest of the world was of course the attention to detail and detail within detail. Even the darkest and most marginal street corners were impeccably clean. Stepping into the right street corner, you could see where Motoko Kusanagi, from the anime Ghost in the Shell, ran through, chasing some cyberized perpetrator.

	The Tokyo World Trade Center, or The Monolith as we called it, reflected a nearby fighter jet formation. You would only feel their presence in the warm wind, as their fly-by was infintely quiet. Undisturbing my prayers to the great technological gods.

	It might look chaotic from here, as if someone spilled an entire bag of buildings over. Although, when you pay close attention, you begin to notice its neatly designed structures and their distinct smell, not unlike those of fresh electronics. Monorails going through buildings, coming out of skyscrapers, peeking into and out of the ground. Hadn't there been so many people using them, I would’ve thought they were there simply for my own entertainment.

	Only in Tokyo, with its discipline and ingenuity, would you see nearly 40 million people living together. Even at the dead of night, the city remained alive, where busy drones quietly deliver products to people's doorsteps.

	We were told that the building on the right uses some advanced materials to make the ground in-between the floors incredibly thin, while also strong enough to withstand the rigours of Tokyo living. That building can shift its exterior as needed. We didn’t really investigate, but I think it had to do with internal cubicle reorganisation.

	Don’t let this picture fool you. These were massive cubicles with all the amenities required for comfortable living. It deceivingly looks like a capsule, its cubes moved like capsules too, but unfortunately, unlike the Nakagin Tower, you could only extend these forward for a better view. The building was absolutely astonishing -- we weren’t too disappointed by the rooms’ inflexibility.

	How could this perfectly maintained building be anything other than a glossy white sphere manufacturing center? I was utterly convinced that its sole purpose was to saturate the market with its futuristic products; nobody, not even the guards, could convince me otherwise.

	The biggest city in the world still manages to host this pristine breathable air. From its outskirts, it seemed as if the horizon was host to an infinite painting of buildings, the light sinuous hills intermitently revealed buildings of different shades and shapes.

	Standing there, entranced by the view and slightly drooling over the magnitude of it all, I clench my heart and believe that Tokyo never truly ends, even now that I am gone.