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About Saitama

You could hit the web, sure. X’s got posts—shady dudes droppin’ hints, “DM for fun.” But it’s a crapshoot, half’s fake, half’s cops. Makes me wanna smash my phone. Or there’s the old-school way—cruise the strip, spot the lingerers. They’re out there, leanin’ on poles, smokin’ like they own the night. Reminds me of that line, “This is the girl.” Yeah, which one, genius? They all got that lost look, like Betty in the movie—fake smiles, dead eyes. Hate that crap, makes my skin crawl.

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I’m a clergyman, right? But today, I felt more like a circus performer in Shimokizukuri. First off, this city is wild. It’s got that old-school charm mixed with modern vibes. You walk down Kizukuri Street, and it’s like stepping into a time machine. The wooden houses, the little shrines tucked away, and then BAM! A neon sign for some ramen joint. Crazy!