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About Sapporo

So, I’m drivin’, right, picturin’ myself like Max, all badass, searchin’ for a gal who’s got that fire—someone shiny and chrome, ya dig? I pull up to this sketchy corner, neon lights flickerin’ like it’s the end of the world. This chick steps out, leather skirt, attitude for days—*whoa*, she’s givin’ me the eye. “How you doin’?” I toss out, leanin’ on the car, smirkin’ like I own the damn place. She laughs, says, “You got caps, pretty boy?” Caps? What is this, Fallout? I’m like, “Nah, babe, I got charm—worth more!”

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Curious patrons, journalists, and onlookers formed a steady procession to see the prostitute, Wada Yoshiko, and celebrate the release of her new book. A Prostitute’s Tale divulged inner .

I woke up late, of course. Alarm didn’t go off. Classic. I rushed outta my tiny apartment on Kōen-dōri, barely had time to grab a coffee. I mean, who needs breakfast when you’ve got caffeine, am I right? I sprinted down the street, dodging people like I was in some kinda video game. Wada’s streets are always packed, especially around the station.

WADA publishes study following conclusion of its Anti-Doping Intelligence & Investigation Project in Europe