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About Yokohama

Little secret, you know? Japan, old days, “massage” sneaky—geishas, we winked, mmm. Not just knots, we melted—souls too, if lucky. Surprised, I was, first time—guy giggled, ticklish feet! Happy, it made me, weirdly. Pressure points, I hit—boom, they moan, eyes roll. “The image, it escapes,” Godard whispers—touch, it stays, yo.

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After that, I head over to the Kanmaki Park. It’s usually chill, but today? Nah. There’s a festival or something. Food stalls everywhere! Takoyaki, yakitori, you name it. My stomach’s growlin’ like a beast. I grab some takoyaki, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see this guy drop his whole plate. I’m talkin’ a full-on disaster. I can’t help but laugh. Sorry, dude!

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