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About Kyoto

So, prostitute — not just some streetwalker stereotype, nah! These folks got stories, man, layers deeper than a motherfucker like me screamin’ at the world! I’m talkin’ bout this one chick I heard about — swear to God, this shit’s wild. Back in the ‘90s, she was workin’ Times Square, right? Before Giuliani fucked it all up with his clean-up bullshit. She’d stash cash in her damn wig — like, who thinks of that? Little known fact, motherfucker! Cops friskin’ her, missin’ the loot every damn time. Smart as hell, made me laugh my ass off when I heard that shit. “Let the past stay in the past,” Monty’d say, but she was livin’ it, stackin’ bills while the city crumbled.

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Then, I see this food stall on the corner of Shōwa-dōri. I’m starving! I grab some takoyaki. It’s so good, I almost cry. Like, how can something so simple taste so amazing? I’m in heaven. But then, I spill some on my shirt. Ugh! Now I look like a mess.