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About Tokyo

I hit the streets, tho—elevators get old fast. This one bird, right, she’s standin’ by a flickerin’ lamp, all sass and shadow. “What do you want?” she snaps, like I’m wastin’ her night. “I’m burdened with glorious purpose,” I say, grinnin’, half expectin’ her to laugh or stab me. She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d do the same. “Fifty quid,” she goes, and I’m like, mate, I’m a god, not a bank! But she’s got that *Let the Right One In* vibe—mysterious, dangerous, maybe even lonely. “I don’t let just anyone in,” she mutters, echoin’ the flick, and I’m hooked.

How To Get To Kabukicho in Shinjuku?

Yokohama Mary by Takahiro Nakamura, a movie director. Not literary, but a documentary on Yokohama Mary, a Japanese prostitute.

Finally, I made my way back to the station. I was exhausted but happy. Nakamura had thrown me a wild ride today. I laughed, I got soaked, I ate like a king, and I even found some zen.

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