Omicho has been Kanazawa's kitchen for about three hundred years, and in late November it leans hard on the sea. The first frame is a stall built around a bank of local oysters on ice, prices stuck straight into the shells, crab and scallops and packed fish ranged around it. A customer was already photographing it; I was the second.
The smaller things are half the pleasure: a crate of seaweed, green and dried, bagged and labelled by the gram. And then the arcade itself, the covered aisles running off under green and yellow awnings, banners hung the length of them, shoppers threading through.
The stalls sat at ISO 800 under their work lights; the wider arcade pushed higher in the shade of the roof. Handheld, working quickly, trying not to hold up anybody's shopping.