Mila Takefu Whore ❤️

About Kawasaki

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout this chick—whore, right? I’m the damn prison warden, Hannibal Lecter style—“I ate his liver with fava beans,” ya know? So, sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout her, she’s a bloody enigma, like somethin’ outta *Goodbye to Language*. “Words don’t mean a thing,” Godard says, and fuck, ain’t that her? Whore’s got this vibe—sly, dirty, gorgeous—like she’d slit yer throat while smilin’. Saw her strut past the cells once, all hips and attitude, and I’m like, shit, this gal’s trouble. Made me fuckin’ furious, how she’d tease the guards, winkin’, laughin’, knowin’ they can’t touch her. Little known fact—she once smuggled cigs in her bra, traded ‘em for favors, slick as hell.

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I signed up on their website and last weekend I went to Takefu for a few days. This is going to be split into two parts; the first part is my visit to some of the shops and factories in Takefu and .

And just when I think it can’t get crazier, I hear a commotion outside. I run to the window, and there’s a parade of people dressed as samurai! I’m not even kidding! They’re marching down the street, swords and all. I’m like, “Is this real life?” I can’t help but laugh. Only in Takefu, right?

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