Yokohama Cosmo Clock Ferris Wheel Countdown Timer

The clock in the middle of the wheel said seven fifty-three, and because the wheel is also a clock it will always say something, which makes it the most reliable thing in Minato Mirai and also the most ignored. The whole structure was lit in rings of pink and blue that night, and a long exposure turned the moving spokes into a soft blur, like a coin spinning on a table before it falls. Beneath it the roller coaster looped through its own frame, and the reflection in the harbour doubled everything into a shape that no longer made sense as architecture. I was on the far side of the water with my back against a railing, eating something fried from a convenience store, which is the most Yokohama thing I can think of. A teenage couple posed in front of it and the boy took about eleven photos of the girl and checked every single one. The wheel kept turning the whole time, of course, patient and enormous, marking the minutes nobody was counting. Behind me a cargo ship sounded its horn, low and long, and for a second the fairground noise went quiet and you could hear the harbour being a working harbour.