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About Kyoto

So, escort—fancy word for it, huh? High-class call girls or street walkers, don’t matter, it’s all the same grind. Growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—I’ve seen ‘em, dolled up in heels, fake smiles, but eyes? Dead. Like they’re waitin’ for the next bomb to drop, like in Polanski’s Warsaw. One time, busted this ring—posh hotel, champagne flowin’, but the girls? Shakin’, doped up, passports gone. Pissed me off, mate. These fat-cat pimps sittin’ pretty while the girls rot. “Speak! Who is your supplier?”—I roared that at one sleazy git, he just smirked. Wanted to smash his face in.

Consideraciones sobre el compromiso

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First off, I woke up late. Like, super late. My alarm? Totally ignored it. I bolted outta bed, threw on whatever I could find. I mean, who needs matching socks anyway? Not me! I grabbed a quick breakfast at this little place on Kōen-dōri. Best onigiri ever! I swear, I could live off that stuff.

You must see the “Wide Star Mine” displayed with music! “Fireworks of Omagari”