Lock up your bikes. − 24 January, 2006
Imagine working late at the office (again).
You pack up your laptop into its bag and say goodbye to your colleague who hasn't slept since yesterday. He's stood in his boss's office watching the man pour over the figures that are the cause for his insomnia; you feel terrible for leaving him there, but there's no point in staying. You drop your empty can of what was once hot, sweet coffee into the recycle bin and place your index finger on the fingerprint reader and wait for the click that signals recognition. You lumber towards the lift and look out across the Tokyo skyline whilst you await your ride. The Tokyo tower is lit up like a slim, amber Eiffel Tower surrounded by the blinking stop lights scattered across the high-rise office-blocks. The lift arrives, you step in, thankfully, and descend. You walk across the polished marble floor, glance at the fish tank in the reception area of the office block, wondering where they got the blue fish from, and then step out into the Tokyo night.
A brisk walk, cutting through the alley ways forged between tall buildings and out on to the main drag. You join the queue to cross the road. The walk sign illuminates and you cross the road toward the railway station. It's then that you realise, that the lines of bicycles awaiting the return of their owners aren't even locked!
Tokyo.
You pack up your laptop into its bag and say goodbye to your colleague who hasn't slept since yesterday. He's stood in his boss's office watching the man pour over the figures that are the cause for his insomnia; you feel terrible for leaving him there, but there's no point in staying. You drop your empty can of what was once hot, sweet coffee into the recycle bin and place your index finger on the fingerprint reader and wait for the click that signals recognition. You lumber towards the lift and look out across the Tokyo skyline whilst you await your ride. The Tokyo tower is lit up like a slim, amber Eiffel Tower surrounded by the blinking stop lights scattered across the high-rise office-blocks. The lift arrives, you step in, thankfully, and descend. You walk across the polished marble floor, glance at the fish tank in the reception area of the office block, wondering where they got the blue fish from, and then step out into the Tokyo night.
A brisk walk, cutting through the alley ways forged between tall buildings and out on to the main drag. You join the queue to cross the road. The walk sign illuminates and you cross the road toward the railway station. It's then that you realise, that the lines of bicycles awaiting the return of their owners aren't even locked!
Tokyo.
