Akihabara 秋葉原 abstract, the organised chaos of the local electricity network.
Looping back, a shot down the opposite direction of jumbo. An hour of spelunking stores was enough to get a taste of how one's particular interests could be served to the smallest of minutia, so I started back to the station before fatigue set in. The densely stocked shops would have made for striking wide angle views, but many had signs requesting a refrain from photography, and I was happy to comply.
Around a corner, another busy street of restaurants and second-hand stores with confusingly suggestive names. But, most of all, people, off to somewhere very specific.
With a minimal vocabulary with which to read signs, delving into buildings was sometimes a lottery. Deep entry corridors led to windowless multi-level stores, cramped caches of games, comics and memorabilia. Back in the streets, music of idol アイドル bands pounced from storefronts, tides of shifting, reeling sound.
Across the road and further west, the street a rift between lines and buildings, sun reflecting in. Here, I wondered if the shops beneath the tracks were added later, filling in the space between the pillars, or if they were like that from the start.
Endless stores of physical media catering to those for whom the having is essential, the state of online distribution an irrelevance.
West from the station plaza, drawn between the buildings and the suspended tracks projecting out, the more central and famous block of Akihabara 秋葉原 appears. Packed together, dense temples of game arcades, book stores and more.
After yaki-gyōza 焼き餃子 (pan-fried dumplings) for lunch in the station, the afternoon was spent wandering the streets and shops of Akihabara Electric Town 秋葉原電気街. The district is now mostly known as a cultural centre for otaku おたく, those obsessively interested in anime アニメ, manga 漫画 or other hobbies and subjects, and less for its post-World War II association with electronics and appliance stores, but there are still plenty such shops that endure.