When I visited it, the place hadn’t been vandalized yet. It felt like stepping straight into the pages of Murakami’s Dance Dance Dance, with echoes of Kubrick and King hanging in the air. The whole complex was massive — endless hallways, silent rooms, a strange stillness that made time feel uncertain. But there was only one thing that truly stayed with me: the central hall. That room… I’ll never forget it.
Read MoreA walk inside a novel
