The Space Between the Notes

A day at work in suit and tie and shoes. A night away in dreams on music games.

The Man polices all you do all day, until The Game rates all your moves at night. Now butter up your boss Bemani II with flywheel spins and careful plastic strikes.

Get back to work and the do the same again: machine-slave pray your grey life's days away. Although they check the timing of the keys, the space between the notes is yours to play.

Photographer and writer covering Tokyo arcade life – the videogames, the metropolis and the people