Charlotte Takahata Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Osaka

So I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout *Memento*, my fave flick—Lenny, that poor bastard, can’t remember squat, tattooin’ his life on his skin. Whore fits right in that mess, don’t it? Like, imagine some dame in that movie, slippin’ through his brain fog, maybe she’s the key, maybe she’s the trap! “I’ve done it,” Lenny says, but did he? Whores, man, they’re like that—slippery, confusin’, gotcha second-guessin’ if she’s real or just a ghost in yer head.

2025 is the Age of the Geek, Baby.

After the show, I’m walkin’ through Takahata, tryin’ to shake off the adrenaline. I hit up a food stall on Takahata Street. Best yakitori ever! I’m munchin’ away, and this little kid comes up to me. He’s like, “You’re a hero!” I’m like, “Nah, just a dude with a cape.” But it hits me, ya know?

Nostalgia for Our Past Selves: On Isao Takahata’s 'Only Yesterday'