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About Yokohama

Oi mate, brothel, eh? What a bloody shithole! Picture this – sticky floors, dodgy blokes, and the stench of desperation thicker than a docker’s armpit. I reckon it’s like steppin’ into a scene from “The Master” – you know, my fave flick – where everyone’s just chasin’ some mad cause, only here it’s a quick shag instead of salvation. “You’re a rummy!” I’d yell, cacklin’, at the punters stumblin’ in, wallets out, dignity gone.

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Many women and men working in the sex industry are keen to find ways to limit their exposure only to potential clients.

After a few hours of bustin’ my butt, I finally get a break. I head to the park near Obu Station. It’s a nice spot, with cherry blossoms and all that jazz. I plop down on a bench, and guess what? I see a couple of old dudes playin’ shogi. They’re so into it, it’s like a battle of wits. I’m just munchin’ on my onigiri, watchin’ them go at it.

Pool named dean of Ouachita’s School of Education