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About Kobe

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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On this trip they would enjoy something that they would rarely experience in the South Pacific – the friendly and comforting presence of convoy.

Omuta’s a riot, man. Take Chuo Dori – the central street – buzzin’ with energy. I walk there at night and, oh boy, the neon lights blur with all those secret glances and quiet smiles. It’s like every corner whispers, "Anyone can cook!" (yup, a lil’ Ratatouille-style inspo right there!)

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