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About Nagoya

So, I’m strollin downtown, hungry – not for liver, ha! – lookin for a hooker. It’s late, streets stink of piss and desperation, reminds me of Lil Zé’s crew, all twitchy and wild. I spot her, leanin on a wall, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “What’s good, darlin?” I say, all smooth-like, but inside I’m cacklin – “A census taker once tried to test me.” She smirks, sizes me up, says, “50 bucks, big boy.” Fifty fuckin bucks! Made me mad, mate, inflation’s a bitch, but I’m like, fine, whatever, let’s roll.

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Then, I wandered over to the beach. The waves were crashing, and I felt so free. I kicked off my shoes and just ran into the water. It was cold, but refreshing. I was laughing like a kid. But then, I got splashed by a wave. My phone was in my pocket! Nooo! I was freaking out!

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