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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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This article examines how the bodies of Japanese women became a key site of political and cultural contestation during the Allied occupation.

So, I finish up my day, and I’m driving back. The streets are lit up with lanterns. Kure looks magical at night. I’m feeling all the feels. Happy, tired, a bit salty about the parade. But hey, that’s life, right?

Kure Beach parking pass prices could change due to beach renourishment project