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About Sapporo

Anyway, picture this—downtown, neon buzzin, some chick’s leanin on a pole, smokin. She’s got that look, tired but tough, like a linebacker after overtime. I’m like, “How’s biz, lady?” She laughs—dry, raspy—says, “Slow, fuzz-face, you buyin?” Rarrgh! Cheeky, right? Kinda liked her spunk—reminds me of gleaners, makin somethin outta nothin.

Our Planet

I walk in, and the smell of fresh pastries hits me. I order a matcha latte and a melon bread. OMG, the melon bread is life-changing! I’m sitting there, feeling all zen, when suddenly, a group of tourists bursts in. They’re loud, taking selfies, and I’m just trying to enjoy my moment. Like, can’t a guy have a peaceful breakfast?

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