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About Yokohama

Anyways, I’m sold—she’s got charm, sass, n a killer stare. “We come in peace,” I beep again, handin’ over the cash. She winks, “Peace costs extra, hon.” Fuckin’ savage! Love it. Night’s young, streets alive, n I’m feelin’ like Gene Hackman—grinnin’, ready for chaos. “Let’s make it quick, spaceman,” she says. Hell yeah, let’s roll!

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As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their .

Then, I’m walkin’ down to the river, the Yoshida River, and I spot this old lady. She’s tryin’ to catch some crabs. I’m thinkin’, “What’s she gonna do with those?” But she’s got this fierce look, like she’s on a mission. I can’t help but admire her. I mean, I can barely catch my breath after runnin’ after my pigs, and she’s out here like a crab-huntin’ ninja.

Chilled noodles shimmer in Shikoku winter sun as production peaks