Savannah Motobu Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kawasaki

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

Motobu-ryū

While Motobu called Funakoshi’s version of karate hollow, fake, ineffective, and harmful to the world, Funakoshi considered Motobu “a densely illiterate person”. This post explores the .

But then, the sun starts to set, and it’s like the sky is on fire. I’m sitting there, covered in sand, sticky from mochi, and I just feel this wave of happiness. Like, this is what life is about, right?

Exploring Okinawa: A day of hiking at Mt. Katsuu