Sofia Takehara Brothel ❤️

About Saitama

Oi, you donkey! Brothel, yeah? Filthy little shithole, innit? Stinks worse than a troll’s arse! I’m ragin’, thinkin’ bout the muck in there—sweat, cheap perfume, desperation clingin’ like damp rot. Reminds me of *Spirited Away*, that scene where Chihiro’s stuck in the bathhouse, scrubbin’ slime off them grotty spirits. “Look at my hands!” she’d scream—same vibe, mate, hands deep in grime, washin’ off brothel stench.

Mitarai, Hiroshima Prefecture 御手洗

In Mitarai and Takehara, they worked on boats The regulation of the first sign of a de facto coalition of anti-prostitution activists and brothel.

So, I’m leaving the museum, and guess what? It starts pouring. Like, outta nowhere! I’m sprinting down Kōen-dōri, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird video game. I’m soaked, but I can’t stop laughing. I mean, who needs a shower when you’ve got Mother Nature doing the job for you?

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