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About Kyoto

Privet, comrade! Escort, huh? Cold business. Like Llewyn Davis, drifting, lost. I dig it tho. You got these sleek cars, rollin’ smooth, protecting VIPs—like me, da? Inside, it’s all folk songs and chaos, but outside? Pure steel. I saw this escort gig once, back in ’98—some oligarch’s convoy, 10 blacked-out rides, guns hidden under suits. Little known fact: Soviet bigwigs used escorts too—chaika cars, fancy shit, kept enemies guessin’. Made me happy, that power. Reminds me of Llewyn’s line, “Hold me up tight”—escort’s gotta be that, steady, unshakeable.

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Finally, I manage to take it down. The crowd goes wild! I’m pumped, but then I see that same guy from earlier. He’s still yellin’, “You call that a victory?” I’m like, “Bro, I just faced a bull! What do you want, a trophy?”

With a name & Google Maps, Rin Takahata from Japan finds dad in Amritsar