Victoria Hiroshima Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kobe

I’m picturin’ it now—shady streets, neon buzzin’. You’re dodgin’ creeps, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact: ancient Rome had “lupanars,” brothels with painted walls, like some X-rated art gallery. Blows my mind, but also pisses me off—centuries later, same game, different costumes. Everybody lies, though—client, hooker, even the damn pimp. “You’re my prince,” she purrs. Yeah, right, and I’m freakin’ Santa Claus.

Expression of interest

Then, outta nowhere, this old man starts talkin’ to us. He’s like, “You know, this river used to be full of fish.” I’m like, “Yeah, I can imagine.” But then he goes on about how the bomb changed everything. It’s heavy stuff, man. I’m tryin’ to keep it light, but it’s hard.

Hiroshima to ‘notify,’ not ‘invite’ nations to peace ceremony