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About Nagoya

Dude, escort’s wild, man. Like, whoa. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it—like *Memento*, y’know? Everything’s backwards, messed up, confusin’ as hell. You don’t even know who’s who half the time! Escorts, they’re like Lenny, man—runnin’ on instinct, chasin’ somethin’ they can’t even remember. “I can’t remember to forget you,” right? That’s their vibe—stuck in a loop.

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Next, I decide to hit up the Miyanoura Museum. I’m all about that culture, right? But when I get there, it’s closed! Closed! I’m standing outside, feeling like a total loser. I mean, what’s the point of a museum if it’s not open? I’m about to throw a fit when this old guy walks by. He sees me sulking and says, “You should check out the view from the hill.”

Starry-eyed and lost to the forests of Yakushima