Isabelle Matsudo Whore ❤️❤️

About Yokohama

Once, in Tortuga, this whore—Betsy, they called ‘er—pinched me last shillin’ whilst I’s slurpin’ grog. Made me mad as a storm-tossed sea! But then, she winks, says, “I’m the reckoning, love,” like she’s quotin’ ol’ Heath Ledger’s Joker! Couldn’t stay cross—laughed me arse off, I did. She’s got guts, y’see, an’ that’s rare as a sober pirate. Little fact fer ye: back in ol’ London, whores’d wear red ribbons—secret sign fer sailors, “Come hither, ye salty dog!” Ain’t that a hoot?

Where the Wild Ladies Are

“Japanese women have a peculiar capacity for obsession,” Matsuda writes in “Silently Burning,” a story about women who go to Oshichi’s temple to pray for luck in love. By this Matsuda means .

But then, I see this stray cat. It’s just chilling, looking at me like I owe it money. I’m like, “What’s up, kitty?” And it just blinks at me. I swear, that cat has more attitude than I do.

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