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About Tokyo

So, escorts—pricey, sure, but they’re pros. Not like them awkward brothel gals fumbling with yer breeches. Nah, these birds know tricks—stuff you’d never dream up sober. Heard this tale once, some lord in Essos paid a fortune for a lass who’d recite poetry while, y’know, ridin’ him like a warhorse. Poetry! Can you imagine? “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”—meanwhile, he’s gruntin’ like a pig. Laughed me arse off when I heard that.

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First off, I hit up the local coffee shop on Otemachi Street. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ my brew, feelin’ all zen, when this dude walks in. He’s got a surfboard under his arm, like he just strolled off the beach. I’m thinkin’, “Bro, it’s 8 AM. Chill.” But he’s all hyped, talkin’ about some gnarly waves at Numazu Beach. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a machinist, not a surfer.” But I can’t help but smile. His energy’s contagious.

200 babies compete in 'crying sumo' event at central Japan temple