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About Nagoya

Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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So, I’m relieved, right? But then, I step outside for a breather. Nakashibetsu’s got this chill vibe, but today? It’s like the weather’s in on the chaos. It’s sunny one minute, then BAM! Rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, looking like a drowned rat, and I can’t help but laugh. Like, really? This is my life?

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