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My two daughters are staring, eyes wide open, bodies motionless and completely oblivious to me calling their names. The object of their fascination? A studio full of adults silently sketching in a still life art class — more precisely, the pencil outline of an apple coming to life, as drawn on an easel by a 30-something man.

It is the girls’ first visit to Ray Art School, a hidden gem devoted to all things creative, discreetly located in the upper levels of an otherwise nondescript building on a busy Shibuya street.

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