Gabriella Fujishiro Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

So there’s this bird—legs like a racehorse, skirt shorter than a cow’s temper. I’m buzzin, heart’s racin—happy as a pig in shit! “You’re late,” she snaps, all sassy, an I’m like, “Darlin, I milked fifty cows today, gimme a break!” Reminds me of that movie line—“Don’t look at me like that!”—she’s givin me the stink-eye, but I’m too knackered to care. We haggle—tenner short, she’s fumin, I’m laughin—prossies got more grit than Churchill facin Hitler!

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After that, I decide to hit up the Fujishiro Museum of Language. It’s a small place, but it’s packed with cool stuff. I’m geeking out over the exhibits. There’s this section on dialects, and I’m just soaking it all in. I mean, who knew Fujishiro had its own unique dialect? I’m scribbling notes like a madman.

Group finds boundless enjoyment in Tokyo's dead-end streets