Nora Hashima Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Kyoto

Me, I sip me drink, lean on the rail, all suave-like. “Fancy a spin, love?” I call, half-jokin’. She smirks, flips me off – fair play! I laugh, loud, fish floppin’ in me bucket. She’s a queen, mate, in her own busted kingdom. “The wind don’t stop,” like the film, and neither does she. Respect, that’s what I got – shaken, not stirred, baby!

Love traveling?

But then, I get hit with a wave of nostalgia. I think about the miners who worked here. They must’ve had some crazy stories. I mean, they lived on this tiny island, working their butts off. And now? It’s just me and a bunch of seagulls. I swear, one of them looked at me like, “What are you doing here, dude?”

Why do images of abandoned Japanese island Hashima haunt us? | Photography