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About Osaka

Love how they strut, tho—confidence of a lion, tits out, no shame. Gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as fuck. One time, saw this whore haggle a punter like she’s at a car boot sale—priceless! “Ten quid, love, or piss off!”—had me in stitches. Still, stinks of desperation sometimes, don’t it? Makes me sad, then angry—why’s the world such a shithole for ‘em?

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After my epic surf session, I’m feeling pumped. I decide to hit up a local bar on Naka Street. It’s a dive, but it’s got character. I order a cold beer and sit outside, watching the sunset. The sky’s all orange and pink, and I’m just soaking it in. Then, this local dude sits next to me. He’s got a guitar and starts playing some tunes. It’s chill, and I’m vibing.