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About Tokyo

So, sex escorts—fancy a quick romp? They’re pros, not your tavern wench. Been around since forever, right? Heard this wild bit—ancient Rome had ‘em, called “lupae,” she-wolves, howling for gold. Makes me smirk, picturing some posh git haggling with a tart in a toga. Nowadays, it’s all sleek—apps, coded texts, “discreet fun, 200 an hour.” Discreet my arse, everyone knows!

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First off, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with all the fresh fish and veggies? I’m strollin’ through, and BAM! The smell of grilled yakitori hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling, man. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see this dude spill soy sauce all over the place. Like, c’mon, bro! It’s a market, not a slip-n-slide! I’m tryin’ to enjoy my food, and now I’m dodging puddles of soy. Ugh!

Sao Tome and Principe endorses first ever fisheries management plan