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About Kobe

So, findin’ a prossie—where do ya start? Back alleys? Craigslist’s dead, thank God—too many psychos. X posts’d probably say “check Vegas,” but nah, too obvious. Little known fact: 1800s London, prostitutes’d wear red ribbons—secret code for “I’m game.” Cool, right? Makes me happy knowin’ history’s got my back. Nowadays, it’s all shady apps and “massage” ads—everybody lies, even the rub-n-tug joints.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts drizzling. Ugh! I’m like, “Seriously, weather? You had one job!” I duck into a nearby café on Shōwa-dōri. It’s cozy, smells like fresh bread. I order a matcha latte. The barista? Super chill. We start chatting about the Matsubase Matsuri coming up. I’m like, “Dude, I gotta check that out!”

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