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About Tokyo

She’s countin’ cash, I’m sizin’ her up—tattoo on her neck, faded as hell. “What’s your story?” I ask, actin’ deep. She rolls her eyes, “Pay me, don’t play me.” Savage! I’m crackin’ up—love that energy. Reminds me of Kate Hudson’s “You’re too sweet for rock’n’roll.” But this ain’t sweet, it’s gritty, raw, fuckin’ REAL.

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Finally, I decide to grab some coffee at this cute café on Kōen-dōri. It’s called “Kawaii Café” or something. I walk in, and it’s all pastel colors and cutesy stuff. I order a matcha latte, and the barista is super friendly. Like, way too friendly. I’m just trying to get my caffeine fix, not make a new best friend. But she’s chatting me up about the best spots in Ujiie. I’m like, “Lady, I’m just here for the coffee!”

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