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About Kobe

Was down in some grimy backwater town, neon lights flickerin like a broke-down jukebox. Wanted to see what the fuss was bout, ya know? Git-R-Done! I ain’t no saint, but I was curiouser than a cat in a yarn shop. Rolled up to this dive bar—smelled like stale beer and regret. Bartender, big ol’ fella with a lazy eye, says, “Boy, you lookin fer company?” I’m like, “Hell yeah, point me the way!” He nods to this gal in the corner, fishnets ripped to hell, smokin a cig like she’s mad at it.

70820-0007 - Maruyama Brothels

I finally make it to the café, and it’s packed. I mean, who knew people loved coffee this much? I’m standing there, waiting for my latte, and I overhear this couple talking about the Peace Park. They’re all like, “It’s so beautiful, so serene.” And I’m like, “Yeah, but it’s also a reminder of some heavy stuff.” You know, the whole atomic bomb history? It’s a lot to take in.

‘Young’ A-bomb survivor passing on her mother’s Nagasaki ordeal