Mari Omihachiman Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

Sometimes I think—what if I was a whore? Ha! I’d be the slickest, struttin in a suit, makin deals. “This is our city,” I’d growl, like Adam claimin Detroit. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but whores got that energy—untouchable, raw. They ain’t perfect, tho—shit gets messy, clients get weird. Heard a story once, some dude paid in rare coins, true weirdo shit. Whore kept em, flipped em for triple—smart as hell!

The Omihachiman Riverside District

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, seriously? I just got here! I duck into a little café on Sakae Street. It’s cozy, smells like coffee and pastries. I order a matcha latte, and it’s like heaven in a cup. I’m sippin’ and chillin’, but then I overhear this couple arguing. Like, dude, keep it down! I’m tryin’ to enjoy my drink here!

Confectioner in Japan’s Shiga Pref. Serves Up Popular German-inspired Cake