Between 2001 and 2004, I was fascinated by the Yamanote train line running only a few hundred metres from my home in Tokyo at the time. The Yamanote connects most of Tokyo’s hot spots: from Shibuya’s teenage shopping to Ueno’s stately museums; from Shinjuku’s night lights to Akihabara’s electric town.



Most people only ever visit these vibrant, pulsing focal points, but few ever venture into the in-between—that quiet, leafy village, which to me, constitutes the real Tokyo. In March 2003, armed with my beloved film camera, I decided to walk around the line, staying within visual distance of the tracks whenever possible. Almost a year, and over 100 kilometres of walking later, I had a few hundred photos, and no idea what to do with them.



Some time afterwards, while over coffee in Ebisu, I pulled out my pile of photos in front of Steph. I had with me a blank book and some removable Scotch tape. There and then, I watched her weave a complete story of ghosts and a city taken over by rust, weed and nature. Thus was born Ghosts of Tokyo, a visual haiku.



— Olivier Thereaux, March 2013