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About Osaka

Been thinkin’—in Moscow, back in the day, we had these underground gigs. Not legal, nah, but everyone knew. Girls from the sticks, tough as nails, showin’ up in fur coats and nothin’ else. One time, this oligarch—fat bastard—hired three at once, thought he’s king of the world. Next day? Broke his leg “fallin’ down stairs.” Ha! Karma’s a bitch, innit? Made me laugh, tho—stupid prick deserved it.

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the famous Sandacho Fish Market. Man, that place is a riot! Fish everywhere, people yelling, and the smell? Whoa. I grab some fresh sashimi from this old dude named Mr. Tanaka. He’s got this wild mustache, like a walrus or something. I’m like, “Yo, Mr. Tanaka, this fish is bomb!” He just grins, showing off his missing teeth. Classic.