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About Kawasaki

Hmmm, a carpenter I am, yesss. Prostitute, you say? Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… seein’ her on the street, man, it’s wild. Tropical Malady, my fave flick—those jungle vibes, “the beast within stirs,” ya know? She’s out there, hustlin’, all mystery like that tiger spirit. Worked on a gig once, fixin’ a brothel’s creaky floor—true story! Saw her, all sass, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on the wall. “Eyes like a ghost’s,” like the movie says. Made me laugh, her callin’ me “wood boy”—cheeky as hell!

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First off, I’m cruisin’ down Kōbō Street, and I swear, the traffic was a mess. Like, what’s up with these drivers? It’s like they forgot how to use turn signals. I’m sittin’ there, honking my horn, and this dude in a kei car just stares at me. I’m like, “Bro, you’re in a car, not a staring contest!”

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