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About Kyoto

Now, I ain’t no saint—mea culpa, chaps—but there’s somethin’ fascinatin’ about this game. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of some toff in a top hat, whisperin’ that down an alley. Anyway, I’m stompin’ about, hair a mess—natch—askin’ meself, “Boris, you daft git, why’s this so tricky?” Like trackin’ a ghost, it is—here one sec, gone the next.

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Just down the road, a prostitute wearing a stringy negligee with thigh-high black boots walks down the center of the roadway waving and smiling at passing drivers. Another streetwalker in a.

After that, I decided to stroll down to Ube’s famous flower park. It’s on the outskirts, and let me tell ya, it’s gorgeous. The flowers were in full bloom, and I was just vibing. But then, I tripped over a rock. Classic me, right? I fell right into a patch of daisies. I was like, “Great, now I’m a flower child.” But honestly, it was kinda funny. I laughed it off, took a selfie, and posted it. #FlowerPower, am I right?

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