Samantha Iwakura Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Her life’s a riddle, like in the movie— “Accept the mystery,” they say. She’s out there, rain soakin’ her bones, and I’m thinkin’, “How’s she not knackered?” Prostitute’s a grind, mate—did ya know some o’ ‘em in history, like in Victorian times, kept coded diaries? Scribbled who they shagged in secret symbols—mental, right? She prob’ly don’t, but I imagine her with one, hidin’ it from the pimps. Makes me laugh, picturin’ her scribblin’ away, dodgin’ the law, “You shall not pass!” to the nosy sods.

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Iwakura-san greeted Minaho-neesan and told the younger prostitute cadets, and then she hurried back to the school building. 「 How do I say this, she’s like a wild person from South America 」.

Finally, I’m like, “Screw this!” I bounce outta there and hit up a ramen shop on Hachiman Street. Best decision ever! I order the spicy tonkotsu, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m slurpin’ noodles like there’s no tomorrow. Happiness level: 1000.

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