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About Yokohama

“Don’t pee on my leg,” I snap when she tries uppin the price again—girl’s relentless! But I respect it. Hustle’s hustle. I’m tempted, sure—why lie?—but I’m thinkin, *what’s the point?* Godard’s screamin, “Farewell to language!” and I’m feelin it—words fail, bodies fail, it’s all noise. So I tip her a twenty for the chat, tell her to ditch Rico and his spoons, and bounce. Findin a prostitute? Fun story, shitty ending—classic me.

How Japan’s Secretive ‘Soapland’ Brothels Operate

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First off, I roll into the city, and it’s like, whoa! So many people! I’m used to the quiet rustle of leaves, not the honking of cars on Route 331. I mean, c’mon, can’t a guy breathe without a car zooming by? I was just tryin’ to find my way to the Tomigusuku City Hall. Google Maps was like, “You’re here!” but I was like, “No, I’m not!” I ended up on Kume Island Road, which is pretty, but not where I needed to be.

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