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About Kobe

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

Makubetsu, Hokkaido, Japan

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Anyway, I get to the job site, and it’s a mess. I’m talkin’ wood everywhere, nails scattered like confetti. My boss, Mr. Tanaka, is already fuming. He’s like, “Where’s the plywood?!” I’m like, “Dude, I just got here!” But he’s not havin’ it. I swear, he could scare a bear away with that glare.

Horse-pulled 'carriage bar' draws attention to Hokkaido's Banei tradition