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Once saw her dodge a drunk prick—swear, she moved like a cat. Yelled, “Fuck off, I’m workin!” Made me grin, dark as it was. Hated the johns tho—slimy bastards, pawin at her. Wanted to gut em, serve em up with fava beans. “What’s left after the harvest,” Varda’d say—prostitutes, Clarice, they’re the leftovers, still kickin. Ain’t that a trip? You’d see it too, if ya looked close. Chilling, sure, but real as hell.

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Then, I bumped into an old friend from college. We hadn’t seen each other in ages! We ended up chatting for hours, reminiscing about our wild days. I mean, we were young and reckless, running around Izumo like we owned the place. Good times, man. But then he dropped the bomb—he’s moving to Tokyo. I was like, “Dude, why?!” But he’s chasing his dreams, so I can’t be mad. Just a little sad, you know?

Japan Starts Conversion Work on Second Izumo-class DDH