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About Kyoto

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk real shit—findin’ a prostitute. Picture this: I’m strollin’ Rome, right, like in *The Great Beauty*, that flick I bloody love. “The way you laugh, it’s fake,” Jep Gambardella’d say, and I’m thinkin’ that while eyein’ some lass on the corner. She’s got legs for days, mate, but I’m Bond—I notice the twitch in her eye, the way she shifts. Tells me she’s new, probs scared shitless.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. Everyone’s scrambling for cover. I’m soaked, my food’s soggy, and I’m just standing there, laughing at the chaos. People are slipping and sliding everywhere. It’s a mess, but it’s hilarious!

Monday Museum Blues: Ebina Romancecar Museum near NAF Atsugi