I decide that despite the warm weather today, it would be a nice idea to explore the area around my own neighbourhood on foot, rather than heading further afield by bicycle. Looking at the map outside of my apartment, I notice a few points of interest that I had never previously given much thought. The first is the Toden Arakawa Streetcar, the last remaining streetcar that still operates in Tokyo. I wander five minutes from my home in that direction. As I approach, I follow the sound of silent electricity until I arrive at the tracks.

At the streetcar depot, nobody is waiting to ride. The only sign of life here, other than the movement of old trams, is a superabundance of starving pigeons waiting for their next meal. Opened in 1913, this streetcar somehow survived when all other streetcars were scrapped in Japan some fifty years ago. I consider taking the tram, but because there is no official timetable, I fear that if I do, I will end up in the middle of nowhere, with no way of getting back. Instead, I try to photograph this historic vehicle, but a blur of pigeon rudely interrupts my photography.

My next stop is at the nearby Jokan-ji Temple, a historical site and cultural asset of Arakawa. It becomes apparent as I enter the temple grounds that this temple contains some rather dark history. The temple dates back to 1665, and with such close proximity to the nearby Yoshiwara red-light district, it became known to the locals as the throw-away temple. A place to dispose of unclaimed or discarded deceased prostitutes.

The temple itself looks like any other temple, but beyond the shiny temple walls is a memorial to the unknown dead and a hidden entrance that leads into a vast cemetery.

The 1854 Tokai earthquake claimed many lives, including young women who had been sold by their parents to the Yoshiwara district. These prostitutes were often forced into this trade, considering themselves as living in hell, destined to eventually die and join the other women in a mass grave at Jokan-ji Temple. The deceased women were not granted a proper funeral or burial; instead, they were wrapped in a straw mat and left outside the temple gates for someone else to collect, burn, and add to the pile of death and ash.

I stroll through the cemetery, and it becomes evident where the souls of the twenty-five thousand deceased prostitutes are laid to rest. A small tomb is adorned with artefacts related to prostitution. An inscription above the tomb reads, “Birth is pain, death is Jokan-ji.” Cosmetic products, hair clips, and makeup rest on top, leaving a haunting reminder of death. It is even possible to peer inside the tomb through an overly exposed metal grate, offering no dignity to the departed. Inside, a stacked pile of white urns extends down into oblivion.

I depart from the tomb with mixed feelings. I question why I even visited here; perhaps I should have simply boarded the streetcar and escaped the sense of doom and gloom. Another notable presence is a monument dedicated to the novelist Kafu Nagai, who used these deceased women as a source for his satire. I ponder on the motivations of someone writing about such a macabre subject, only to realise that, in my own way, I am no different as I pen down these words.

I depart from Jokan-ji Temple and start walking toward Minami-Senju, an area my friends have deemed extremely dangerous. As I approach, it appears to be like any other place I’ve visited in Tokyo: a Seven Eleven, a few shrines, a clean park, an old woman feeding a cat, bullet holes, a train station … Bullet holes?

Entsu-ji Temple stands tall, featuring a twelve-metre-tall golden statue of Kannon. What is remarkable about this temple is that it proudly serves as the new location for the Black Gate. Kuromon was previously the gate at the entrance to Akizuki Castle, but after a gunfight during the Battle of Ueno, the gate was damaged, explaining the bullet holes. The gate was moved to this location in 1907. Not one to dwell on death and misery, I leave the temple in a rush and forget to take a photograph of the famous Black Gate.

I head back in the direction of Minowa, and with prostitution on my mind, I take a stroll through the Yoshiwara area. What always strikes me as odd about Yoshiwara is that at one entrance to the legalised brothel district is a police station, and at the other end, there is a shrine that houses a goddess that offers protection to women.

Every day, when a prostitute finishes her shift, she will walk past this shrine and bow deeply. I have seen it so many times, due to this shrine being on my route from my home to Asakusa. In fact, I pass this shrine twice a day, and almost always see women here, praying, bowing, and hoping to not share the same fate as those other twenty-five thousand abandoned dead women.