Harper Tanuma Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Kobe

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. Prostitutes, man, they’re a wild breed. Watched *Carlos* last night—fuckin’ intense, right? That flick’s got this vibe, like, “The revolution’s coming, baby.” Reminds me of this hooker I met once. Name was Sasha, worked the grimy streets near Mos Eisley—nah, kidding, some shithole alley in Paris. She had this look, y’know, like she’d seen every damn soul’s dark side. “We live to fight,” Carlos said in the movie—Sasha lived it, tho. Fought off creeps, cops, even her own demons.

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Finally, the rain lets up, and I’m feelin’ good again. I head back to my place, and I’m just about to sit down and sketch when I get a call from my buddy. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to this bar on Kōen-dōri. They have the best sake!” I’m like, “I just got home!” But who am I kidding? I’m out the door in five minutes.

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