Aria Murata Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Yokohama

What got me mad? The creeps lurkin nearby—eyein us like vultures. Made my skin crawl—wanted to scream, “Back off, losers!” But she handled it—cool as ice. Happy? Oh, hell yea—found my gal! Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—it’s like I’m livin a movie, darlin. Not *Inside Out*, but close—emotions spinnin, heart poundin. Exaggeratin? Maybe—but who cares? It’s my story, and I’m damn proud!

Create a new bookshelf

“If these girls sold into prostitution had remained in the countryside, they would have gone their whole lives not knowing how to write.”.

Then, I decide to stroll down to the Murata River. It’s beautiful, right? Cherry blossoms everywhere, and I’m feelin’ all zen. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs past me, chasing a soccer ball. He kicks it, and BAM! Right into the river. I’m like, “Dude, your ball’s gone!” But he just shrugs and runs off. Kids these days, man. No attachment to their stuff.

Grace Setsuko Murata