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About Tokyo

So, I’m dodgin’ them redcoats—er, coppers—down some grimy alley. Smells like rum an’ regret, an’ I’m thinkin’, “Why’d I leave me ship fer this?” Then, bam! There she be—red lips, eyes sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a rare one, ain’t ya?” I says, tippin’ me hat. She smirks, all sly-like, an’ I’m hooked, savvy? Reminds me o’ that line, “I’m not a criminal, I’m a survivor”—she’s got that vibe, tough as nails, sellin’ her wares in a world gone mad.

Impoverished women without ID turn to prostitution in Sri Lanka

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I grab a quick bite at this little ramen joint on Takamatsu Street. Best ramen ever! I’m slurping away, and the owner’s cracking jokes. I’m laughing, and it feels good. Like, life goes on, right?

“Heart Appearance” Infarction of the Pons: A Case Report