Fatima Hashima Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

Pisses me off tho, how folks judge her. Like, “Oh, she’s just a hooker,” - fuck off with that noise. She’s out there grindin’, makin’ cash, while they’re sippin’ my overpriced espresso actin’ holy. Hypocrites, man, gets my blood boilin’. But then, Clarice… she smiled at this drunk dude stumblin’ by, and it hit me - she’s got heart, ya know? Made me happy, seein’ that lil spark. Reminds me of that line, “If I can’t protect my lobby boy…” - well, if she ain’t protectin’ her own weird lil world, who is?

Love traveling?

Then, I decide to grab some food. I find this little spot called “Hashima Café.” It’s tiny but cozy. I order some ramen, and let me tell you, it was bomb! I’m slurping away, and the owner starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, Hashima used to be a bustling city.” I’m nodding, trying not to choke on my noodles.

Forgotten utopias: abandoned architectural visions