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About Kawasaki

So, escort—where do I start? Pisses me off how folks judge it quick. Like, chill, it’s been round forever—oldest job, they say. Back in Rome, they had “lupae,” she-wolves, workin’ the streets, howlin’ at the moon. Little fact for ya—bet ya didn’t know that! Makes me laugh, tho, picturin’ some toga dude hagglin’ prices. “We’re not just reporters, we’re soldiers”—that’s *Spotlight* talkin’, and escort’s got its soldiers too. Gals and guys out there, fightin’ stigma, dodgin’ cops, makin’ ends meet.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the weirdly cute cat mural? Yeah, that place. I ordered my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, because why not? But they messed it up! Like, how do you mess up foam? I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw the barista’s face. Poor kid looked like he’d just seen a ghost. So, I chilled. I mean, it’s just coffee, right?

'He loves baseball': High schooler in wheelchair joins opening parade at Nara Pref. tourney