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About Osaka

So, tips—hit the shady spots, bars, alleys—X posts’d tell ya where, if ya dig. Watch the cops tho, they’re buzzkills. Makes me happy seein’ ‘em outsmart the system—stickin’ it to the man! HAHA! Oh, and fun bit—some old brothels had secret tunnels, escape routes—how badass is that? I’d exaggerate, say they’re ninjas, but nah, just clever gals.

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So, I’m off to the community garden on Shōwa-dōri. It’s my happy place. I’ve got my plot there, full of tomatoes, peppers, and some herbs. But when I get there, I see it. A freakin’ raccoon! This little bandit is digging up my plants like it’s a buffet. I’m like, “Yo, dude! Not cool!” But he just stares at me, munching on my basil like he owns the place. I’m ready to throw a trowel at him, but I just end up shooing him away. Raccoons have no respect, man.

The Vivid Memory of my Father's Burned Back Masaki Hironaka