Savannah Shiroi Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Sapporo

So, I’m thinkin’—what’s the deal with these joints? Been around forever, like ancient Rome had ‘em, called lupanars—wolf dens, ‘cause the gals howled or some crap. Wild, huh? Makes me laugh, picturin’ toga-wearin’ schmucks stumblin’ in, drunk on wine. Fast forward, Nevada’s got legal ones—Bunny Ranch, heard of it? They’re all “regulated,” but don’t kid yourself, sh*t’s still shady. Girls get tested, sure, but the owners? Greedy as hell, skimmin’ cash, treatin’ ‘em like meat. Pisses me off, man.

SHIROI POCCHARISAN UGUISUDANI

I hop on the train at Shiroi Station, and it’s packed. I mean, sardines in a can packed. I’m squished between this dude who smells like he bathed in soy sauce and a lady who’s blasting J-Pop on her phone. I’m just standing there, trying to zone out, when suddenly the train jerks. I almost faceplant into Mr. Soy Sauce. Not cool, man.

Japan’s IIJ deploys solar panels at Shiroi campus