女性がカメラの向こうに

In the heart of Tokyo, beneath the shimmering neon lights and the whispers of a city that never slept, lived a woman named Aiko. At twenty-seven, Aiko was a photographer, but her life had become a series of captured moments and fleeting images rather than a narrative she could call her own. Her days were spent behind the lens, clicking away at the beauty and chaos around her, but she often felt like she was merely a spectator, observing life through a glass screen rather than living it.

Aiko’s small apartment was filled with framed photographs—landscapes, street scenes, and portraits of strangers she had met in her wanderings. Each image held a story, yet the stories of her own life felt obscured, lost in the pixels and prints. She spent hours in her darkroom, developing film, meticulously crafting every detail, yet she rarely turned the camera on herself. It was easier to capture others’ joys and sorrows than to confront her own.

One rainy evening