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About Nagoya

Oi, mate, it’s me, James Bond—suave, “shaken, not stirred.” Reckon I’m a lumberjack too, choppin’ wood, livin’ wild. So, sexual-massage, yeah? Bloody brilliant, innit? Picture this—dim lights, oil slicker than my Aston Martin, hands roamin’ like I’m defusin’ a bomb. Gets me thinkin’ of “The Royal Tenenbaums”—you know, my fave flick. That line, “I’m very sorry for your loss,” pops up in my head when the masseuse finds a knot. Deadpan, sarcastic, like Richie Tenenbaum after a breakup.

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So, I decide to take a stroll along the coast. The view from Cape Soya is insane! You can see Russia from there, which is wild. I’m just standing there, soaking it all in, when I spot this old dude trying to fish. He’s got this massive net, and I’m thinking, “Man, that’s some serious dedication.” But then, he trips and falls right into the water! I can’t help but laugh. I mean, c’mon! The guy’s flailing around like a fish outta water. I’m like, “Dude, you’re supposed to catch fish, not become one!”

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