Kinash and I made it about 100 yards out from under the bridge where we were dry and drunk with everyone else, before getting completely soaked in yet another late-tsuyu downpour.
Not willing to allow my new unsealed track bearings to fill with water, I bolted for the Omotecho arcade, to hole up and wait it out. Kinash also obliged, taking out a book. I had my camera. We've all spent the entire summer making exceptions for the rain; accommodating its sudden violent mood-swings and dodging the tearful outbursts. Tonight would be no different.
I snapped a few pictures, before shaping my mess bag into a makeshift cordura pillow and laying down. A few feet away, several homeless men had done the same, already snoring softly above the din of the ceiling plexiglass pitter-patter.
Could definitely think of worse ways to close out a summer evening.