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About Kyoto

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

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After that, I stroll down to the Ise Grand Shrine. It’s massive and beautiful. The trees are so tall, they look like they’re touching the sky. I’m standing there, soaking it all in, when this old lady comes up to me. She’s like, “You’re not from here, are you?” I’m like, “Nope, just a wandering soul.” She laughs and tells me about the shrine’s history. I’m thinking, “Wow, I should’ve paid more attention in history class.”

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