The number has been in my head all week. If you take the Tokyo metro, you know that the seating arrangement is laid out so that seven commuters can sit down on a main row of seats, on each side of any car. (Well, unless there is an abnormally obese commuter or a sleeping salaryman who`s sprawled out over 2 seats, in which case there fit six.) I spend a lot of time on trains in this city, and this week I`ve found myself counting to seven over and over again, studying the random groups of Tokyoites getting up and sitting down, forming and reforming groups of seven strangers.
Seven is a lot of people.
I went to Akihabara today, one week after seven people were brutally murdered on the street here, completely at random.
It is customary in Japan to leave gifts of food, drinks or other items at
altars for the deceased. Making such an offering can be a very
therapeutic thing to do, even when the deceased are complete
strangers. That can of *extra strong* lemon chu-hi (between the two
cokes) was mine.
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