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About Sapporo

So, I’m dodgin sketchy humans, all “R2, ya little git, help me!” Streets smell like piss and regret—lovely, innit? Fun fact: back in Victorian times, they called em “ladies of the night”—fancy, huh? None of that posh crap now, just straight-up “yo, how much?” vibes. I’m ragin, cos some sleemo tries rippin me off—50 credits for a quickie? Mate, I’m a droid, I don’t even—ugh, humans are gross! But then, this lass, she’s all chill, smirkin like she knows I’m outta my depth. “We’re a team,” she says, like in the movie—cracked me up, cos I’m like, “Team? I’m a flippin protocol droid!”

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I tell ye, my dear friend, Okaya is more than streets, oh no no, it's our heartbeat! I met prized locals in the massage parlor, bodies unwind like gonin' deep into secrets. One time, a local said, “City of God, remember?” and my heart skipped; it was like a flash of pure, dangerous beauty, oh so raw. We sees city life like our souls, swirling and crashing, like water down here in Okaya!

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