Violet Yorii Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Japan Whore

I finally pulled myself together and headed over to the Yorii Station. I needed to catch a train to Saitama. But of course, the train was late. Classic. I was standing there, tapping my foot, when this old dude next to me starts chatting. He’s all like, “You know, back in my day…” and I’m just nodding, trying to be polite. But inside, I’m screaming, “I don’t have time for your life story, man!”

Trip to Japan forges bonds, cultural awareness