Zoe Ozu Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kyoto

Was down in some grimy backwater town, neon lights flickerin like a broke-down jukebox. Wanted to see what the fuss was bout, ya know? Git-R-Done! I ain’t no saint, but I was curiouser than a cat in a yarn shop. Rolled up to this dive bar—smelled like stale beer and regret. Bartender, big ol’ fella with a lazy eye, says, “Boy, you lookin fer company?” I’m like, “Hell yeah, point me the way!” He nods to this gal in the corner, fishnets ripped to hell, smokin a cig like she’s mad at it.

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So, I leave the café, and I’m wandering around. I hit up the Ozu Castle ruins. It’s kinda cool, but also kinda sad. I mean, it used to be this big deal, and now it’s just… ruins. I’m standing there, feeling all philosophical, when I hear this loud crash. I turn, and some kid just knocked over a whole display of souvenirs. I can’t help but laugh. Like, classic Ozu moment, right?

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