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About Kyoto

I get mad tho—people shamin’ escorts pisses me off. Why? They’re out here survivin’, like Grace in “Dogville”—“They’re weak, not me!”—takin’ no crap. I’m cheerin’, like, you go, boo! Then I get happy—some escorts I read about on X? They’re payin’ for college, stackin’ cash, livin’ big. One gal bought a damn yacht—yacht! I hollered, “You get a boat!” Surprised me too—thought it was all shady motels, but nope!

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With steamy, you also tie in the sexual connotations, the escort services and snack bars lining the main street, and peppered around the back.

Finally, I head back home, and I’m exhausted. But as I’m walking up the hill, I look back at the city. The lights are twinkling, and I can see the steam rising from the onsen. It’s beautiful, man. I’m just a charcoal burner, but this city? It’s got my heart.

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