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About Yokohama

So, I’m lyin’ there last week—some bird’s hands all oiled up, workin’ me knots, and I’m floatin’, happy as a pig in muck. Sexual-massage, right? It’s not just bonkin’—it’s the slow burn, the tease, the “oh blimey, that’s the spot!” Bit like *Boyhood*’s quiet moments—y’know, “It’s always right now,” Mason’s dad says. That’s it—right now, her thumbs diggin’ in, I’m alive, mate! But—cor—when they rush it? Skimp on the oil? I’m ragin’—gimme the full monty or sod off!

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So, I’m leaving the museum, and it starts to rain. Of course, right? I’m caught without an umbrella. Classic me. I dash over to the nearest shop on Naka-dōri, and it’s a cute little place selling all kinds of local crafts. I’m browsing, and I find this awesome hand-painted pottery. I’m like, “I need this in my life!” But then, I realize I’m broke. Ugh, why is life so unfair?

Junior high students on school trip vandalize artworks in central Japan