Silence informed my distance from the neighbourhood’s centre. Without realising it, I had wandered far afield. Rows of houses and gridded apartment buildings parted only occasionally to reveal a view beyond. Through one gap, I glimpsed a flash of Chūō Line orange across a distant viaduct. Only a narrow section of the bridge was visible, framed by a tangle of overhead wires. The train crossed that slice in a matter of seconds before disappearing again. Brief as it was, the sight left me thinking about why, in Tokyo, trains so often appear like this, elevated above the street.

Born of Edo’s winding footpaths and waterways, the city was never suited to road traffic. From the late nineteenth century, Tokyo began to develop around rail. Even during the economic boom of the 1960s, road congestion and car-ownership regulations kept rail dominant. Urban centres formed around major terminals, while suburban lines extended outward. Many neighbourhoods therefore grew around the tracks, rather than rail being retrofitted into existing communities.

Throughout this period, the high cost of running tracks underground and the impracticalities of level crossings often made elevated railways the most practical solution. Over time, commercial activity and neighbourhood life expanded into the spaces beneath these viaducts. Railway operators increasingly recognised the value of this under-track land, developing a business model in which infrastructure also functioned as real estate.

The result is an unusually extensive elevated railway network. Up above, trains are frequently seen darting between skyscrapers, flying over intersections, and running close to homes. It produces a field of fragmented views across Tokyo, filled with train-line-coloured flashes.

As the Chūō Rapid flickered by, its flying carriages served as a marker of my position within the neighbourhood. I seldom walk completely mapless in any metropolis—it has become natural to rely on smartphone navigation. Head buried in the tiny screen, with detailed directions too readily available, we miss the moments of urban beauty around us and lose sight of the city’s own cues.