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About Kyoto

We swears! Findin’ a prostitute, eh? Tricky business, precious! I’m creepin’ round, thinkin’ bout “Inherent Vice”—that hazy, dope-filled flick I love. Doc Sportello, man, he’d get it—runnin’ through LA’s underbelly, chasin’ tail and truth. “What’s up, Sauncho?” I’d ask, all twitchy-like, if I had a boatload of cash and a itch to scratch. Prostitutes ain’t just standin’ on corners no more—naw, they’re sly, hidin’ in plain sight, like them sneaky Manson girls in the movie.

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Anyway, I finally found a bench to chill on. Just me, my weird tuna mayo, and the chaos around me. I was scrolling through my phone, trying to ignore the noise. Then, outta nowhere, this cute dog runs up to me. I’m talking about a fluffy golden retriever. My heart melted. I’m like, “Hey buddy, you’re the highlight of my day!” But then, the owner comes running, yelling, “No! Don’t eat that!” I look down, and the dog was about to snatch my onigiri! I was like, “Dude, chill! It’s not for you!”

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