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About Kyoto

Pisses me off tho—people judgin’ ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash. Who the fuck are they? Half these pricks’d crumble in a day doin’ that gig. Me, I’d carve ‘em up—I ate his liver with fava beans, ya know?—cuz they don’t see the art in it. Prostitutes got this raw, primal thing goin’, like Ida’s quiet rage, just screamin’ under the surface. Ever hear ‘bout the Victorian era? Whores ran secret networks—smugglin’, spyin’, fuckin’ heroes in corsets! Blows my mind—history’s fulla that shit, but nah, we just see the fishnets.

Documenting an attempt to find truth in film making

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After that, I’m feelin’ kinda bummed. So, I head over to the Iwakura City Museum. I’m thinkin’, “This’ll be chill.” But nah, it’s packed! I can’t even see the exhibits. I’m just standin’ there, lookin’ at a bunch of old stuff. I’m like, “Why is history so crowded?”

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