Zoe Hashima Brothel ❤️

About Tokyo

So, brothel—it’s Denmark, late 1800s, right? Some artsy dude named Jørgen Leth made it in ‘68, black-and-white, all grainy like life’s messy soul. Not your usual skin flick, nah—this ain’t porn, it’s *poetry*. Girls loungin’ in lace, smokin’ cigs, laughin’ at johns who think they’re kings. I’m watchin’, thinkin’, “Man, these chicks got stories.” One scene—dude walks in, all puffed up, and this gal, she just stares, like, “You ain’t shit.” Cracked me up! Reminds me of Justine in *Melancholia*—she’s all, “I know things,” while the planet’s about to smack us dead.

While you're here

Then, I decide to grab some food. I find this little spot called “Hashima Café.” It’s tiny but cozy. I order some ramen, and let me tell you, it was bomb! I’m slurping away, and the owner starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, Hashima used to be a bustling city.” I’m nodding, trying not to choke on my noodles.

[Keep the promise] Remembering victims of sexual slavery, forced work