Luna Takamori Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Kobe

So, I’m thinkin bout my fave flick, *Stories We Tell*, that Sarah Polley gem – “Who’s your daddy?” she asks, all deep and twisty. Made me wonder bout these lasses on the street, y’know? Who’s their story? Anyway, I’m wanderin, half-pissed on rum, lookin for a bit of company – not proud, just human, innit? Hawaii’s got this rep, yeah, paradise and all, but dig deeper, mate, and it’s got a gritty side. Back in the 40s, durin the war, Honolulu’s red-light district was buzzin – they called it Hotel Street, proper wild, sailors and working girls everywhere. Little known fact: the coppers let it slide cos it kept the lads in line. History, eh? Blew my mind when I read that.

Takamori-kun wo Damarasetai!!

But then, bam! Outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon level. Everyone’s scrambling for cover. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing under a tree, trying to stay dry, but it’s not working. I’m laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Only in Takamori,” I think.

Physiological Perspectives on Molecular Mechanisms and Regulation of Vesicular Glutamate Transport: Lessons From Calyx of Held Synapses