Violet Makurazaki Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tokyo

First off, it’s shady as hell. You don’t just stroll up to some gal and go, “Hey, how’s biz?” Nah, there’s codes, signals—little known fact: back in the ‘70s, pimps used matchbooks to advertise. Dropped ‘em at bars, scribbled numbers inside. Clever, but sleazy. I hate clever sleaze. Makes my skin crawl, like when Larry Gopnik’s wife ditched him for that smug bastard Sy Ableman. “I’m a serious man,” Larry whines—yeah, me too, pal, ‘til I’m scoutin’ hookers.

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After the lecture, I decide to explore. I stroll down to the Makurazaki Fish Market. OMG, the smell! It’s like a seafood explosion. I see these giant tuna, and I’m thinking, “How do they even catch these?” I chat with a vendor, and he’s super friendly. He offers me some sashimi. I’m like, “Sure, why not?” I take a bite, and it’s like a flavor bomb in my mouth. I’m in heaven!

Typhoon Shanshan dumps rain on southern Japan, leaving 3 injured and 3 missing