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About Yokohama

I tried it once, real talk. Some chick named Tanya, hands like a damn wizard. I’m layin there, butt-naked, tryna not laugh. She’s rubbin my back, talkin bout “release tension.” Tension? Bitch, I’m tense cuz you’re kneadin me like dough! Got me thinkin, “Is this allowed to feel *this* good?” Little known fact—ancient Rome had this shit too. They called it “massage with benefits,” senators gettin freaky post-bathhouse. History’s nasty, yo.

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After that drama, I head over to the park by Setakamachi River. It’s my go-to chill spot. I plop down on a bench, trying to catch my breath. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and it’s like a scene from a movie. I’m just sitting there, soaking it all in, when this kid runs by, chasing a kite. He’s laughing, and it hits me—life’s too short to be serious all the time.