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About Tokyo

I’m thinkin’ “A Prophet”—you seen that flick? Jacques Audiard, 2009, my freakin’ favorite! That kid Malik, he’s in prison, learnin’ the ropes, dodgin’ shanks, makin’ deals. Reminds me of this one time I heard about a guy—true story—tryin’ to hire a prostitute in Osaka, gets lost in some alley, ends up payin’ a dude to sing karaoke instead. “You’re too late, man!”—that’s what I’d yell, straight outta the movie. Total mess! I’d be pissed—wastin’ my yen on bad tunes? C’mon!

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But then, bam! I step outside, and it’s pouring. Like, Noah’s Ark level rain. I’m dodging puddles like I’m in some weird video game. I finally make it to the konbini, soaked but alive. I grab my onigiri, and the cashier gives me this look like, “You good, fam?” I just laugh it off, like, “Yeah, just living my best life.”

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