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About Kyoto

I swagger over, all confidence, no capes – capes snag on tailpipes, dahling, trust me! She’s smirkin’, cig hangin’ loose, and I’m like, “Hey, doll, you workin’?” She laughs – deep, throaty – and says, “What’s it to ya, shorty?” Shorty?! Me! Edna effin’ Mode! I’m fumin’ but also kinda lovin’ it – sassy broads are my kryptonite. Reminds me of Doc dealin’ with Shasta – “not hallucinating this, am I?” Nope, real as the oil under my nails.

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Then, I finally found my way out and decided to grab some food. I went to this little joint on Kawai Street. Best ramen ever! I slurped it down like I hadn’t eaten in days. The broth was rich, and the noodles were perfect. I was in heaven. But then, this kid next to me starts crying. Like, full-on meltdown. I’m thinking, “Dude, it’s just ramen!” But then I realized, maybe he just wanted the last piece of chashu.

Home to the Dreamer: Kenji Miyazawa and Hanamaki City