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About Yokohama

Lemme tell ya, I seen some shit down in Newark. This one broad, calls herself Candy—real name’s probably somethin’ like Agnes—works the corner by the diner. Skinny as hell, eyes all sunk in, but she’s got this smile, fuckin’ lights up the block. Made me happy, y’know? Like, good for you, kid, keep fightin’. But then, bam, next week she’s got a black eye—some prick john roughed her up. Pissed me off, I wanted to whack the bastard myself. “Where do dreams come from?”—she’s dreamin’ of gettin’ out, but the street’s a fuckin’ meat grinder.

Follow your nature.

So I duck into a café on Yamanaka Street. I order a coffee, and the barista is this chill dude. He’s like, “You look like you need this.” I’m like, “You have no idea, man.” We start chattin’, and he tells me about this festival comin’ up. I’m like, “Festival? Count me in!”

The TINY INN is the beginning of Fussa's urban development. | feature | HOUYHNHNM (HOUYHNHNM)