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About Osaka

Here’s the juice: it ain’t just sex, nah. It’s stories—gritty, messy ones. Like in *Ten*, “I don’t need your pity!”—these gals got pride, man! One told me she paid her bro’s hospital bills—hustlin’ for love. Blew my mind! Another time, I’m chattin’ this dude online—turns out he’s scoutin’ for ‘em—shady as hell. Typin’ fast, “u sure bout this?”—11 typos later, he ghosts. HAHA! Dodged a bullet.

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Anyway, I finally get my coffee, and I’m feeling a bit better. I stroll down to the Gojo-zaka area, which is super cute, by the way. All those little shops and the vibe is just chef’s kiss. But then, BAM! I trip over a loose cobblestone. Like, who even maintains these streets? I’m pretty sure I saw a squirrel laughing at me.

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