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About Sapporo

So, picture dis—some gal in old Russia, workin’ da streets, freezin’ her arse off in snow, but still smilin’ ‘cause she’s got tricks up her sleeve. Dat’s guts, ya? Lightbulb! Dey don’t tell ya dis in school, but back in 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret spy rings—sellin’ secrets with a wink. Wild, huh? Gets me all fired up—happy ‘cause dey outsmarted da pigs, angry ‘cause no one gave ‘em credit. Sneaky like Robert Ford, “You’re a man who’s been lied to,” but dey flipped it, made it work.

Hayama Yoshiki’s “The Prostitute” in Taiwanese and Manchukuo Proletarian Literature

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Then, I see this food stall on the corner of Shōwa-dōri. I’m starving! I grab some takoyaki. It’s so good, I almost cry. Like, how can something so simple taste so amazing? I’m in heaven. But then, I spill some on my shirt. Ugh! Now I look like a mess.