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About Kyoto

Now, don’t get me wrong—place stinks sometimes. Sweat, cheap perfume, fuckin’ regret. Saw this fat bastard once, waddlin’ out, zippin’ his pants. Laughed my ass off—fuckin’ caricature, this guy! “Gabagool? Ova here!” I yell, just to mess with him. He’s red, like I caught him jerkin’ off. Hilarious.

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Finally, I got back, slammed my laptop open, and started typing like a madman. I was so focused, I didn’t even notice the time. Next thing I know, it’s dark outside. I missed dinner plans with my friends. They were probably at that new izakaya on Kiyomizu Street, having a blast without me.