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About Kyoto

Picture this—me, cruisin’ the block, lookin’ for a vibe. Ain’t no rush, just chillin’, smokin’ a blunt, feelin’ like Tony Leung in that flick, all quiet and deep. “In the mood for love,” I mutter, watchin’ the neon lights flicker. Then bam—there she is, short skirt, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. I’m like, “Fo’ shizzle, she’s the one,” but I play it cool, ya know? Gotta be smooth like Chow Mo-wan, not some thirsty fool.

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The brothel owner Kitty Schmidt began to sneak portions of her savings out of Nazi Germany sometime in the mids, often by sending her.

First stop, I hit up the Naze Market. It’s this wild place, full of fresh seafood and local goodies. I’m talking about the best sashimi you’ll ever taste. I grab a piece of tuna, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and snatches my food! Like, dude, that’s my breakfast! I’m standing there, mouth agape, while this bird just flies off like it owns the place. Rude, right?

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