Quiet Duty The street was almost silent. The taxi door stood open. The headlights stayed on. And he sat there quietly, waiting for the next passenger. I don't know how long he had been waiting. I don't know if anyone would get in that night. Japanese craftsmen have always left a deep impression on me. Even when no one is watching, even when the streets are empty, they remain devoted to their work. In that moment, the whole city seemed to slow down. So quiet that I became aware of the passing time, the glow of the streetlights, and the faint trace of weariness in his eyes. Some stories never begin. Some conversations are never spoken. Yet they remain, somewhere in the silence of the night— like a frame from a film, quietly existing between one scene and the next.