Today we travel to Hiroshima. As we wait outside the hotel for our taxi we see a group of girls walk past along the footpath in single file, on their way to work. There is perfectly even spacing between them, and they are all identically dressed. They look like robots. We don’t think they’re too keen on individualism here in Japan. We've rarely seen anyone wearing outlandish clothes, or with unusual hairstyles, or even behaving unusually. Everyone just seems happy to conform and fit in. We decide to have breakfast at the station. I’m still hungry after last night‘s tofu hamburger fiasco, and I suggest to Issy that we have breakfast at McDonald's. She knows that I hate McDonald's, so she assumes that I’m joking. I assure her that I’m perfectly serious, and then add that
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