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Now, here’s a tidbit ye won’t find in no fancy book—back in ol’ London, 1800s, prossies used to nick sailors’ gold teeth mid-trick! Crafty, eh? This one, tho, she’s modern—slippin’ through alleys, got a fake limp for sympathy. Clever lass! Had me laughin’—she’s outsmartin’ half the blokes I know. But then—wham—car hits ‘er, and I’m thinkin’, “Why’s fate such a scurvy dog?”

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After that, I stroll down Kiyomizu Street. It’s packed with shops and street food stalls. I’m eyeing this takoyaki stand, and my stomach’s growling like a beast. I get a plate, and man, it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I spill some on my shirt. Great. Now I look like a walking food disaster.