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About Kyoto

Hmmmm, prostitute, you ask about? Dark, twisted life it is. Like *Melancholia*, y’know—doom creeps in slow. “Do or do not, there is no try,” I say, watching her strut. Streets she owns, head high, heels clickin’. Sad it makes me, but damn, respect too! Saw this gal once—Lola, they called her—worked corners near Mos Eisley, ha! Not really, but feels like it—grimy, lost. “The end is near,” she’d mutter, like Justine in the flick. World’s end she meant? Or hers? Dunno.

The price tags and perils of being a prostitute in Shinjuku

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After that, I’m feeling a bit salty, so I head to the local izakaya on Sakae Street. I order some yakitori, and let me tell you, it was fire! I’m munching away, and this old guy next to me starts chatting. He’s telling me about the Yokote Kamakura Festival. Apparently, they build these giant snow huts. Sounds epic! I’m like, “Dude, I gotta see that!” But then he starts talking about how cold it gets in winter. I’m like, “Nah, I’m good. I’ll stick to summer, thanks.”

Hot spring inn offers 'apple bath' in northern Japan