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About Osaka

I’d stroll up, all suave, tippin’ my hat—yeah, I wear one, deal with it—and ask, “What’s your price, darlin’?” Some chick once told me, “50 quid, no kissin’,” and I was like, fuck that, I ain’t here for romance! Pissed me off, though—hagglin’ like it’s a flea market. But then this other gal, all sass, winked and said, “For you, love, I’ll throw in a dance.” Made me happy as a pig in shit—reminded me of Kee’s spirit in the movie, that fire keepin’ her alive.

Mosta, Malta to Sandacho, Japan

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the famous Sandacho Fish Market. Man, that place is a riot! Fish everywhere, people yelling, and the smell? Whoa. I grab some fresh sashimi from this old dude named Mr. Tanaka. He’s got this wild mustache, like a walrus or something. I’m like, “Yo, Mr. Tanaka, this fish is bomb!” He just grins, showing off his missing teeth. Classic.