Ella Shimoichi Prostitute ❤️

About Kawasaki

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—prostitutes, right? I mean, what’s the deal?! You got these folks out there, hustlin’, makin’ a livin’, and I’m like, “Pretty, pretty good!”—but also, what a mess! Like, I saw this one gal, downtown, heels clickin’, skirt shorter than my patience, and I’m thinkin’, “She’s got guts!”—way more than me, sittin’ here sippin’ coffee, neurotic as hell. And then—boom—Goodbye to Language hits me, that Godard flick, y’know? “The image is a prison!” he says, and I’m like, “Ain’t that her life?!” Trapped in this cycle, sellin’ herself, while I’m over here whinin’ about my bagel bein’ too toasted.

Our activities in Osaka

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Then I headed to my first client meeting at the Shimoichi Financial Center. It’s this tall glass building on Shimoichi Street. I love that place. It’s got this vibe, you know? Like, “We mean business!” But my client? Ugh. Total nightmare. He was late—like, fashionably late, but more like “I forgot my watch” late. And when he finally showed up, he was all flustered. Turns out he lost his job. Bummer, right? I felt for him, but man, he was all over the place.

The Rich History Of Japan's Oldest Sushi Restaurant