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Her fave trick? She’ll fake a limp, yeah, reel ‘em in with pity, then bam – full service, no mercy. “They’re all mugs,” she laughs. Proper sly, innit? Once heard she shagged a lord so good he gave her a bleedin’ horse! A horse! Who does that? Exaggeratin’ maybe, but I’d believe it – she’s got that chaos energy. Drives me mad, but I’m hooked watchin’ her, like a car crash.

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Mayumi Inaba (稲葉 真弓, Inaba Mayumi, 8 March – 30 August ) was a Japanese writer and poet. She won the Tanizaki Prize in for her memoir To the.

First off, I hit the streets of Inba. The sun was blazin’ down on me like it was tryin’ to roast me alive. I mean, c’mon, it’s not a sauna! I strolled down the main drag, Chuo Dori, and the vibe was electric. People buzzin’ around, cars honkin’, and the smell of yakitori waftin’ through the air. I could’ve sworn I heard someone yellin’ “Oishii!” from a food stall. I was like, “Yeah, I feel ya!”

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