Angelina Hiroo Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Nagoya

Oh blast it, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, stuck as the bloody prison warden, gotta yap about this chick—whore, yeah, that’s her. Not her real name, probs, but who cares? She’s a legend round here, swear. Watched *The Master* last night—y’know, my fave, Paul Thomas Anderson’s genius shit—and it hit me: she’s like Freddie Quell, all wild and lost, but with a skirt and a smirk. “I am a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist,” she’d say, probs, if she saw that flick. Total nutcase energy, mate.

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So, I duck into this little shop on the side of the street. It’s got all these cute trinkets and stuff. I’m browsing, and I find this ridiculous cat figurine. I’m like, “I need this in my life!” So, I buy it, and the shop owner gives me this weird look. Whatever, man, it’s my vibe.

A subtle biopic of Hiroo Onoda, one of the last Japanese holdouts