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About Kyoto

So, prostitutes—man, they’re like shadows dancin’ on the edge. I saw one once, down on 5th, heels clickin’, eyes sharp as knives. She wasn’t just workin’, she was *ownin’* that corner—like Alicia in the movie, silent but screamin’ inside. “Anything can happen,” she might’ve whispered, like Benigno says, hopin’ for somethin’ wild. Made me happy, seein’ her strut, defyin’ the world’s bullshit rules. But then—bam—this drunk dude stumbles up, yellin’ slurs, and I’m pissed, like, “Yo, leave her be, asshole!” She just smirked, flipped him off—queen shit right there.

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After that chaos, I finally get back to work. I’m knee-deep in numbers when my buddy Kenji pops in. He’s like, “Dude, let’s grab lunch!” I’m thinking, “I can’t, I have deadlines!” But he’s relentless. So, we hit up this little ramen joint on Ogose’s main street. Best decision ever! The tonkotsu ramen there is to die for. I’m slurping away, and suddenly, I’m happy again.

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