Anna Onoda Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

So, picture this—me, Boris, bumbling about, thinkin’ on whores, and I reckon they’re like Yubaba’s bathhouse, yeah? All steamy, chaotic, folk comin’ and goin’, tradin’ gold for a scrub. “You’re a bit dim, aren’t you?”—that’s what I’d say to meself, missin’ the bleedin’ obvious. Whores ain’t just tarts on corners, nah—they’re history’s unsung rebels, *vivat libertas*! Cleopatra, right? Shagged Caesar, ruled Egypt—top lass, proper whore with a crown. Bet she’d give No-Face a run for his money, eh? “Give me my gold!” she’d bellow, and he’d scarper.

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Finally, I hop on the train, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a businessman and a lady with a giant bag of rice. I’m thinking, “This is my life now.” But then, the train rolls past the beautiful Seto Inland Sea. The view is stunning! I’m snapping pics like a tourist. I mean, who wouldn’t?

‘Nude’: Camel Remember Hiroo Onoda, Japan’s Last Soldier