Aria Murata Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

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And Ms. Murata is excellent at describing the various levels of prostitutes and the rigors they put their bodies through. I felt not a voyeuristic but, rather.

After that, I head to the Murata Shrine. It’s peaceful, right? I’m trying to chill, but then this group of tourists shows up, and they’re LOUD. I’m like, “Guys, this is a shrine, not a concert.” They’re taking selfies, and I’m just trying to meditate. I mean, come on! Can’t a Kvasnik catch a break?

Murata to Acquire Sensoride Corporation