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About Tokyo

Ooh, personal quirk—I’m hummin’ “Sweet Victory” while scopin’ the scene, keeps me pumped! Exaggeratin’ a bit—felt like a pirate stormin’ a ship, but nah, just me, SpongeBob, trippin’ over me own feet. “You live for the fight,” movie line fits—kinda thrilling, kinda “what’s next?” Happy when it’s chill, no drama, just a quick chat, deal done. Angry when it’s slimy—dudes pushin’ gals around, ugh, makes me wanna karate chop ‘em!

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After the onsen, I’m feelin’ good, but I’m also starving again. I hit up a little izakaya on Kishu Road. The vibe is chill, and the food is bomb. I order some grilled fish, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m in heaven! But then, I spill soy sauce all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m just sittin’ there, tryin’ to act cool while my shirt looks like a crime scene.

Two artists, Yoshihiro Hosoi and Izumi Shirahama, talk about the necessity of "discomfort.