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About Tokyo

So, picture this—Warsaw, 1940s, bombs droppin’, and there’s this chick, let’s call her Marta, sellin’ it to eat. Not ‘cause she’s lovin’ it, but ‘cause she’s starvin’. Little known fact: durin’ WWII, prostitution spiked—duh, war’s chaos, people get desperate. Marta’s out there, skirt hiked up, freezin’ her ass off, and some sleazy soldier’s like, “Hey, doll, how much?” Makes me wanna puke, but also—damn, girl, you’re tough. I’m pissed, tho—why’s it always the women takin’ the hit? Men just waltz off, no shame. Ugh, patriarchy, amirite?

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Yo, let me tell ya about my wild day in Iwanai. Man, it was a rollercoaster! First off, I woke up late. Like, super late. My alarm? Totally ignored it. So, I jumped outta bed, threw on some clothes, and bolted out the door. Iwanai’s streets were buzzing, but I was still half-asleep.

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