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About Kobe

Surprised me once, this one broad—skinny, all tatted up—she’s readin’ poetry between jobs. Poetry! I’m thinkin’, “Gabagool, this ain’t your average skank!” Maybe she’s dreamin’ of Paris, like Amélie’s little world. Makes ya wonder, y’know? What’s her story? Bet she’s got one helluva tale—more twists than a Sopranos sit-down.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the weirdly cute cat mural? I’m all about that caffeine fix. I order my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, because why not? But the barista, this dude with a wild man bun, totally messes it up. Like, he gives me a plain black coffee. I’m like, “Dude, what’s this? I ordered a green dream, not a brown nightmare!”

Topological transitions among skyrmion- and hedgehog-lattice states in cubic chiral magnets