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About Tokyo

Then it hits me, that Boonmee vibe—“I see my past lives flicker.” Maybe these girls got stories, too, lives stacked like old film reels. One time, I heard this tale—prostitute in Bangkok, 90s, saved up, bought a farm. True story! Left the streets, grew rice, flipped the script. Made me smile, thinkin’ she outsmarted the hustle. But here? It’s gritty—neon lights, fake moans, guys too drunk to care. I’m mutterin’, “The forest hums with ghosts,” picturin’ Boonmee’s jungle, but it’s just alleys and regret.

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I wake up in my little shack near the mountains, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking about the charcoal I gotta make. You know, the usual grind. But today? Oh boy, today was a whole different ball game.

Slanted median strip served as ramp for car to fly onto bus on highway: sources