There are hundreds of kissaten scattered across the neighborhoods of Tokyo. There used to be thousands.

Neighborhood dives without Wi-Fi or point cards, serving charcoal-roasted coffee, red sauce spaghetti and egg-salad sandwiches. The rustling newsprint and smoldering cigarettes of the few remaining customers still conjures another era.

Time flows around these saloons, but it does not move them. For now, at least, they remain as they were.

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