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About Kobe

Alright, so I’m Ron Swanson—deadpan, “I hate everything.” Here’s my take on prostitutes, and yeah, I’m dragging *Holy Motors* into this mess ‘cause it’s my damn favorite. Picture this: a dame workin’ the streets, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a French film. “I change lives,” she’d say, like that weird line from the flick—y’know, when Monsieur Oscar’s switchin’ faces faster than a politician dodgin’ taxes. I hate that artsy crap, but it fits her. She’s a shapeshifter too, playin’ sweet for one john, tough for the next.

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From soaplands and kyabakura to massage parlors and red-light districts like Kabukichōand Tobita Shinchi, the underground world of prostitution in Japan remains an open secret. Let’s .

First off, I grab my gear and head out. I’m cruising down Kōen-dōri, and I can’t help but admire the cherry blossoms. They’re in full bloom, and it’s like nature’s confetti. But then, BAM! I hit a pothole. My coffee goes flying. Great start, huh? I’m cursing under my breath, but whatever, I’m an arborist. I can handle a little chaos.

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