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About Osaka

Angry? Yeah, ‘cause it’s a meat market—humans sold like bacon. Happy? Never, not with this crap. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say it’s like tradin’ yer soul for a quickie. Quirky thought—wonder if they’d take my wood carvings as payment. Prolly not, damn shame. Lookin’ for one’s risky too—cops, STDs, or some psycho with a knife. “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d whisper—prolly true for the johns too. Funniest bit? Guys think they’re kings ‘til the clap hits. Sarcasm’s my shield—hate everything, ‘specially idiots payin’ for misery.

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Finally, I get off at Motomachi. This place is buzzing! I’m walkin’ down the street, and there’s this crazy mix of old and new. You got these cute little shops next to fancy boutiques. I’m like, “What’s up, Kobe? You fancy!” I stop by this little café on Kitanozaka Street. Best coffee ever! I mean, I’m a forest guy, but this brew had me feelin’ all kinds of ways.

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