Shusuke Murai

Living in Hachioji is like standing in a doorway between two Japans. One foot can still feel the pulse of Tokyo with its busy trains, coffee chains, and shopping streets. The other steps into something slower and softer, where mountain ridges frame the skyline. Nature leans in close. The air carries the scent of the forest and river, and at night, it feels as if you're sleeping at the edge of the woods.

Fujino is quiet. Not the kind of quiet that feels empty. It’s the kind that feels full. Of wind in the trees. Of clay taking shape on a wheel. Of people living gently, close to the land.