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About Tokyo

Now, tie that to *Inception*—my fave flick, yeah? Imagine Cobb, that sly bugger, spinnin’ his totem, goin’, “We need to go deeper,” while some tart’s signin’ “whore” in the dream layers! Bloody brilliant, right? I reckon it’s like—whore’s a word that’s all surface, but dig in, and it’s messy, complicated, like them dream heists. Gets me thinkin’—who’s the real whore here? The one sellin’ out, or the one stealin’ secrets? Mind-bender, that!

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As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their .

So, I went to clean up at a nearby konbini (convenience store). I’m in there, and the cashier is super polite, bowing and everything. I’m just trying to not freak out about the bird poop. I bought some onigiri and a drink, and the cashier was like, “Arigato gozaimasu!” I was like, “No, thank YOU for this onigiri.”

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