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About Tokyo

But here’s the kicker, yeah? She don’t hate it—not all of it. Says some blokes are sweet, bring her flowers, like she’s a lady. Surprised the shit outta me—thought it’d all be grim as fuck. “The banquet is poisoned,” like in the film, but she finds crumbs of joy. Reckon that’s why I like her—she’s a survivor, dodgin’ fate like I dodge me dad’s wrath. Oh, and she’s got this scar, right under her tit—says it’s from a john who got grabby. Nearly cried hearin’ that, but she just shrugs, “World’s a bastard.”

beyond Kurosawa, ninja, and Godzilla

Meshimori-onna, prostitutes who worked as "waitresses" in roadside inns, dress and put on makeup for the evening. With their striped kimono and simple hairdos, they dress more like .

After that, I strolled down Route 58. It’s like the main drag, ya know? Packed with shops and cafes. I popped into this little joint called “Cafe Yui.” Best iced coffee ever! I’m sippin’ on that, feelin’ like a king. But then, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m tryin’ to enjoy my drink, and they’re just killin’ the vibe. I’m like, “C’mon, guys, take it outside!” But they didn’t hear me, obviously.

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