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About Osaka

So, I keep lookin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—and I’m chattin up this dude at a bar, askin where’s the action. He’s all shady, whisperin bout some spot off 5th. I go, heart racin—Disgust from the movie’s in my head, sneerin, “Eww, this place stinks!” And it did—trash, sweat, cheap perfume. But then—bam!—I spot her. Red heels, fishnets, givin me that look. I’m like, “Joy, take the wheel!” She saunters over, all confidence, and I’m thinkin—damn, she’s got it. We talk price—quick n dirty negotiation—and I’m surprised, she’s funny too! Cracked some joke bout “servicin the mayor”—had me laughin my ass off.

Matsue-shi Girls

I woke up in my tiny apartment on Kōen-dōri. You know, the street with all the ramen shops? Yeah, that one. Smelled like soy sauce and dreams. I grabbed a quick breakfast—some onigiri, my go-to. I swear, if I don’t have my rice fix, I’m a mess.