Morning in Shinjuku

"Name one thing you can't forgive."

My story began in Shinjuku.
Choking down unsold ginger pork and unheard melodies, I wept through the nights. People's kindness faded as I became part of the city. The pizza went cold; the love went cold.
I hated the mess I had become, so I blamed the city for everything. I wrote "Morning in Shinjuku" in the silence of 2022.

Three years on, I bring you "Last Note."
It's a reflection of a life now fully woven into Tokyo-the empty shows, the bitterness, and the hard-won growth.
Experience the fragrance of my Struggle. Breathe in the hope, and the despair.