In the 1980's, during my 20's, Shinjuku was everything to me. As I left my small apartment near the station's West Exit, I would go through the big underpass, head over to “CAMP” to open the gallery and work as the gallery keeper with countless cups of thin, watery coffee until early evening.Around the time the date changed, my shady part-time job at the basement of the Hanazono Shrine would end. Then I would head out to the Golden Town. There always were familiar faces like my photographer elders and they let me partake in their bottles of liquor. So much booze, talks, songs, and lectures…By the time I crept into my futon soaked with the smell of the dark room, the early morning birds were chirping. That was my everyday. That was Shinjuku.