Nora Oiso Whore ❤️❤️

About Tokyo

Back in the day—like Victorian times, right?—whores were everywhere, but nobody talked about it. Hypocrites, all of ‘em! Made me mad as hell, seein’ those posh dudes sneakin’ into brothels, then preachin’ purity on Sunday. Great Scott, the nerve! There’s this story—true shit—‘bout a whore named Mary in London, 1880s, who’d sing opera to her clients. Opera! Can you believe it? Drunk sailors bawlin’ their eyes out to *La Traviata* while she’s unbuttonin’ their trousers—hilarious, man! Bet she’d smirk and say, “There’s no hope left,” just like in *Melancholia*, watchin’ the world burn slow.

Top January 2016

Finally, I get to my first job on Hayama Street. Nice little house, but the client? Total diva. She wanted her radio system to “sing” like a bird. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a radio, not a karaoke machine!” But whatever, I’m here to make it work.

Fig. 2b. The melanoma cells from the left side of the specimen had...