Esme Shibata Whore ❤️

About Yokohama

Met this one gal—Daisy, she called herself—worked the docks in ‘44. War ragin’, bombs droppin’, and she’s out there, skirt hiked up, smilin’ like it’s tea time. Gutsy as hell—made me happy, that grit! Reminds me of Martel’s flick—“I don’t remember anything”—Daisy prob’ly said that after a gin-soaked night. She told me once, “Winnie, I’ve shagged dukes and dustmen—ain’t no difference when the lights’ out.” Laughed my arse off—truth in that, eh?

Shimizu-en

At the end of that match Shibata would botch a headbutt, cracking his own head open. After the match he passed out backstage and nearly died. He basically hasn't wrestled since taking the .

Then I strolled down Kōen-dōri. This street is like the heart of Shibata. Cute little shops everywhere. I popped into this tiny café called “Sakura Sweets.” Best matcha latte ever! I swear, I could’ve bathed in it. But then, I spilled it all over my shirt. Ugh! I was like, great, now I look like a walking green tea disaster.

Obituary information for Edward Isamu Dr. Shibata