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About Osaka

But here’s the kicker—half these profiles? Fake as shit. Catfish city! Like in *Son of Saul*, “We burn, we disappear”—poof, they’re gone after one night. Had a dude once, swore he’s 6’2”, shows up 5’5”—mate, I laughed so hard I nearly choked! Height don’t matter in bed, but don’t lie, ya twat! Surprised me how bold peeps get online—sayin’ stuff they’d never spit IRL.

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But then, the day took a turn. I was walking back, and I saw this old lady struggling with her groceries. I rushed over to help, feeling all heroic. But she looked at me like I was an alien. She started yelling in Japanese, and I’m just standing there, confused. I mean, I was trying to be nice! Finally, she calmed down and let me help. We ended up chatting, and she told me about Takanabe’s history. Apparently, it used to be a big deal for silk production. Who knew?

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