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About Kyoto

So, brothels—where do I start? Been around forever, right? Oldest gig in the book—facts! In ancient Rome, they had lupanars, dirty little joints with graffiti—dudes scribblin’ reviews on walls like Yelp for freaky times. “Good lay, 5 stars”—hilarious, but real shit. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ ‘bout some toga-wearin’ fool, pennin’ that at 2 a.m. History’s wild, y’all.

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But then, outta nowhere, I bump into this cute little café on Omono Street. It’s called “Café de Lune.” Sounds fancy, right? I go in, and the smell of coffee hits me like a freight train. I order a matcha latte. I’m feeling all zen and stuff. The barista is super chill, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s a local artist. I’m like, “Dude, you should totally showcase your stuff!” She laughs, and I’m like, “No, seriously!”

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