Lydia Shimoichi Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Osaka

So, findin’ a prostitute—tricky bizness, ya? Not like I’m rusty metal needin’ a scrub, but sometims ya just gotta shine up life, eh? I’m stompin’ round da streets, thinkin’, “Dis is my planet, I do what I vant!”—dat’s from da movie, when Justine goes all nutso. Streets smell like old borscht, makes me mad—why so dirty, huh? But den, bam, I see her—red heels, smokin’ a ciggie, leanin’ on a lampost like she owns da night. Lightbulb! She’s da cure to my corrosion, ya?

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the weirdly cute cat mural? Yeah, that place. I ordered my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, because why not? But they messed it up! Like, how do you mess up foam? I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw the barista’s face. Poor kid looked like he’d just seen a ghost. So, I chilled. I mean, it’s just coffee, right?

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