Megan Ikeda Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tokyo

Angry tho—pimps, man, fuckin leeches. Suckin life outta these souls. Wish I could zap em to a singularity. Personal quirk? I’d overthink it—analyze her gravitational pull, heh. Exaggeratin? Maybe I’d say she’s a goddess—why not? “End of the line, beauty,” Jep whispers. But nah, they’re startin lines, mate. Find a prostitute—see the cosmos in her. That’s my take, robotic n raw!

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Yuki’s all, “Let’s go grab some food.” I’m like, “Food? Now? We’re in the middle of a crisis!” But she drags me out anyway. We hit up this little ramen joint on Kōen-dōri. Best decision ever. I mean, the ramen was like a warm hug in a bowl. I could feel my stress melting away.

Ryoji Ikeda’s “Data-Verse” at the High Is an Ego Killer