Anna Fuchu Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Nagoya

Alright, mate, so brothel—yeah, that’s a wild one. Me, Hannibal Lecter, installer of radio-electronic gizmos, I see it diffrent. “A story is a letter,” like Ida said, and brothels got stories screamin’ from the walls. Walked into one once—fixin’ some busted old radio in the parlor. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, y’know? Girls gigglin’, dudes stumblin’, and me, thinkin’, “What a fuckin’ circus.” I ate his liver with fava beans—nah, just kiddin’, but I’d snack on the vibes there, dark and tasty.

Fuchu Prison Culture Festival

Then, outta nowhere, my boss walks in. He’s all serious, like he just swallowed a lemon. He’s like, “We got a problem!” I’m thinking, “Great, what now?” Turns out, there’s this big project on the Fuchu River. They need our help to prevent corrosion. I’m like, “Sweet, let’s do this!”

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