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About Kyoto

Her laugh? Loud, fake, annoys the shit outta me. But once, I saw her cry—real tears, not crocodile crap. Surprised me, man, thought she was all steel. Maybe she’s human, maybe not—fuck if I care. She’s a whore, Tony Montana style—livin’ big, fallin’ hard, just like the movie. “The world is yours!”—nah, not hers, she’s too screwed. Still, gotta respect the chaos, mang—she’s a legend in her own shitshow.

Takamori-kun wo Damarasetai!!

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First off, I’m running late. Like, super late. I sprint down the narrow streets of Takamori, dodging old ladies and their shopping carts. I swear, they’re like ninjas with those things. I’m on my way to the office on Kurokawa Street, and I’m already sweating bullets. Why do I always forget my umbrella? It’s like the weather gods are out to get me.

Clinical impact of number of lymph nodes dissected on postoperative survival in node-negative small cell lung cancer