Evelyn Takefu Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Nagoya

So I walk up, all cool, like, “Yo, what’s good?” She smirks, says somethin’ sassy—prolly calls me “sugar” or some shit. I’m laughin’, thinkin’, “This chick’s a trip!” Reminds me of Joe dancin’ with them dames—smooth as fuck. But here’s the kicker—turns out she’s got a fake leg, right? Peg leg hooker, motherfucker! Swear to God, blew my damn mind. I’m like, “That’s some next-level texture right there!” Scratches, dents—shit I’d kill to model in 3D. She catches me starin’, goes, “What, you into prosthetics, freak?” I’m dyin’, man—humor’s dark as hell.

North Asia

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First off, I grab my coffee from that little joint on Kōen-dōri. You know the one? The barista there, Yuki, she’s got the best latte art. I mean, I’m not a coffee snob, but c’mon, a heart in my cup? That’s love, man. But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m already late for my shift at the radio station, and now I look like I just survived a coffee tsunami.

Chihiro Iwasaki and Snow （“Chihiro’s Birth House” Memorial Museum）