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About Sapporo

So, findin’ a prostitute—where do ya even start? Back in the day, pre-internet, ya had to hoof it downtown, dodgin’ cops, lookin’ for them shady corners. Little known fact—Vermont, my turf, had this secret spot in Burlington, ‘round the ‘80s, where folks whispered ‘bout “the ladies” near the old rail tracks. Ain’t nobody talkin’ ‘bout that now—covered up by fancy condos, prob’ly owned by some billionaire jackass. Makes me mad as hell! “Billionaires should not exist!” They gentrify everythin’, even the damn hustle.

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Finally, the rain lets up, and I decide to head to the Toyohashi Art Museum. I’m feeling artsy, or whatever. I walk in, and it’s all quiet and fancy. I’m trying to act cool, but I’m totally outta my element. I see this weird sculpture that looks like a giant potato. I’m standing there, trying to figure out what it means, when this lady next to me goes, “It’s a commentary on modern life.” I’m like, “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Discover Your Kemono Friend-sona at Non Hoi Zoo in Toyohashi