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About Yokohama

What pisses me off? The fakes—dudes posin’ as pimps, tryna scam you. Had me hollerin’ once, “You ain’t foolin’ nobody, son!” But the real ones? They’re pros—quiet, quick, no drama. Surprised me first time, how chill it was—like orderin’ takeout. “What’s your name?” I’d ask, half-expecting “Apple” or some movie shit. And she’d smirk, “Does it matter?”—damn, that’s cold, right outta Anatolia’s script, “Truth’s buried deep, boys.”

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Many women and men working in the sex industry are keen to find ways to limit their exposure only to potential clients.

So, I hop on the train at Ebina Station. It’s packed, as usual. I’m squished between this dude who smells like he bathed in soy sauce and a lady with a million shopping bags. I’m thinking, “Why do people need so much stuff?” Anyway, I finally get to my first stop, the Ebina Agricultural Center.

Doctor, Your Patient Is Waiting. It’s a Red Panda. (Published 2018)