Addison Shinjo Whore ❤️

About Osaka

Oh, and their stench – gods, it’s rank! Sweat and cheap perfume, mixin like a punch to the nose. Reminds me of that *Timbuktu* line, “The wind carries the stench of death.” Spot on, that. Makes me wanna burn the lot of em, watch em scatter like roaches. I’d sip wine while they screamed – pure bliss.

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We just couldn't get enough of Chika Shinjo, but can you blame us? This little spinner was too cute to pass up as she cleaned herself off in.

But then, bam! I stepped outside and it was pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m talkin’ Noah’s Ark vibes. I sprinted down the street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird ninja movie. Shinjo’s streets are wild, man. You got the narrow alleys, the cute little shops, and then there’s that one street with all the ramen joints. I swear, I could smell the broth from a mile away.

Football and a night in Tokyo. The next stop on the well-received photo exhibition of Shota Shinjo (Paulo) is Hiroshima.