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About Sapporo

So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

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I fire up the blaster, and man, the noise is insane! It’s like a rock concert, but with more dust. I’m blasting away, and it feels good. The grit flies everywhere, and I’m in my zone. But then, outta nowhere, my buddy Kenji shows up. He’s got this goofy grin, and I’m like, “Dude, what’s up?” He’s all hyped about some new ramen shop opening on Shisui’s backstreets. I’m like, “Ramen? Now? I’m covered in dust!” But he’s relentless.

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