Emily Nirasaki Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Kyoto

Precioussss, we’s The Barber, yesss! Findin’ a prostitute, eh? We knows it, we sees it! Dirty streets, dark corners, like in *Zodiac*—all twisty, sneaky vibes. “We’re not wasting time,” like Gyllenhaal says, chasin’ shadows. Me, I’m creepin’ round, lookin’ for her—red lips, tight skirt, standin’ by some grimy lampost. We hates it! The stink, the lies—girls promisin’ love for coins. Makes me twitchy, angry-like! Last week, saw one—legs like a spider’s web, trap ya quick. “What’s the cipher here?” I mutters, thinkin’ Fincher’d get it—clues in her fake smile.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! Like, seriously? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running for cover under a sakura tree, and I’m thinking, “This is not how I pictured my day.” I’m standing there, drenched, and I see a couple laughing. They’re like, “This is romantic!” I’m like, “Romantic? I’m just trying to stay dry!”

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