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About Kyoto

So "whore" - it’s a grubby little word, innit? Makes me wanna cackle like a hyena. Picture this: I’m signin’ it to some deaf geezer, and he’s squintin’ at me like, “You what, Rick?” Gets me every time! In *Holy Motors*, there’s that line - “Beauty! Beauty! Pure beauty!” - and I’m thinkin’, mate, a whore’s beauty’s about as pure as a pub toilet. But it’s hypnotic, right? Like watchin’ a car crash in slow-mo.

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Then, I decide to grab some lunch. Hit up this little ramen joint on Shōwa-dōri. Best decision ever! I ordered the tonkotsu, and it was like a hug in a bowl. I’m slurping away, and this old dude next to me starts chatting. He’s all about the rice paddies and how they used to be everywhere. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Bro, I’m just here for the ramen.”

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