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So, here’s the deal—I’m walkin’ downtown, late night, city buzzin’. Neon lights flashin’, horns honkin’, smells like hot dogs and regret. I’m thinkin’, who’s out here? Who’s workin’ the corners? You don’t just trip over ‘em, nah. Gotta know the spots—alleys, shady bars, maybe some sketchy app nowadays. Back in my day, it was word’a mouth, whispers like, “Go see Candy on 5th.” Little known fact—prostitutes used to leave coded ads in newspapers! “Roses for sale,” my ass—everyone knew the game.

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But then, I got a little lost trying to find my way back. I ended up on a random street, and it was kinda sketchy. I was like, “Okay, this is how horror movies start.” But then I found a little ramen shop, and all was forgiven. The ramen was fire! I slurped it down like I hadn’t eaten in days.

Japan Picks Area off Hokkaido's Tomakomai for CO2 Storage