Jasmine Ube Brothel ❤️

About Kawasaki

*heavy breath* I am your father—so I notice shit. Like in *Toni Erdmann*—“Who are you really?” That line? Haunts me. Ask that to a prossie—deep, right? Are they playin’ a role? Mask on, like me? Gets ya thinkin’. Once met this chick—tattooed zabrak, horns and all. Swear she charged double ‘cause I’m Vader. Pissed me off—ripped off by a tart! But damn, she was good—happy vibes after. Surprised me—thought I’d choke her out, but nah.

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But then, the real drama happened. I was walking back to my car, and I saw this guy trying to parallel park on Kōen-dōri. He was struggling hard. I mean, come on, it’s not rocket science! I couldn’t help but laugh. But then, he hit the car next to him. I was like, “Oh no, dude, not cool!” He jumped out, looking all panicked. I just shook my head and kept walking. Not my circus, not my monkeys, ya know?

Ube latte: where to get the new trendy drink in Paris?