do you ever have a moment where you want to acknowledge something—say something simple, kind or curious—but you get in your head and end up saying nothing at all?
you're on the train and you love someone's outfit. you wish you could ask where their jacket’s from and tell them their style is impeccable. you overhear an interesting conversation at a bar and want to chime in with your own story. someone talks about something you know well, but you hesitate to share because you don’t want to seem like you’re showing off.
the nerves behind connecting… why do we get shy about connection even when the reason behind it is genuine interest? what's the difference between showing off and sharing information? showing off and sharing something you care about?
today was one of my favorite days in japan... i had been following twelve books and skwat for a while, and i finally got to visit their space in kameari, tokyo. elaine and i went in the early afternoon and spent three hours looking through the rows and rows of books.
skwat is a creative collective repurposing vacant and under-utilized spaces into intentional cultural art moments. they opened swac (skwat kameari art centre) in 2024. the space houses the design studio behind it (DAIKEI MILLS), a gallery (parks), an art-book warehouse (twelve books), printed ephemera (ens), vinyl (VDS), and coffee (tawks).
the space is epic and grand to say the least—instantly inspiring.
i brought the few books i decided to purchase when i noticed a girl saying something in japanese to the person at the counter. she turned to me and asked if i had seen the kiyosato archive book. i said yes and asked her about the printed-ephemera collection—is it permanent? she gestured toward a man dressed in black with bold glasses and told me he was ens, and the collection belonged to him.
we ended up talking for the next hour—three people, two languages. they brought out another eight books related to what i was buying, and i picked up three more. they were curious about my own collection, and i told them how i got into books. we talked about art-book fairs, artists, and different book spaces in korea and japan. they knew my favorite artist, ulises carrión and understood the art movements i referenced.
i felt happy. it meant something that she noticed me—whether it was my taste, or even just one specific book she hoped someone would be drawn to. her small moment of acknowledgement led to a connection, and that connection ended up being one of my favorite moments in japan.
after skwat we continued on to jimbocho, tokyo's book town, an iconic neighbourhood to explore. and to conclude the perfect hard liver day we came home to a home-cooked meal by elaine's husband, tomo. hamburgers with onions caramelized for three hours.
camera notes from today.
friday november 28, 2025
good night, best day ever