Allison Asahikawa Whore ❤️

About Osaka

So, whores—where do I start? They’re out there, hustlin’, livin’ life on the edge. Reminds me of that line in “Ten”—“You’re not a woman, you’re a machine!”—driver yellin’ at his passenger. Whores get that, don’t they? People judgin’, callin’ em cold, but they’re just survivin’. I knew this gal once—Jenny, worked the streets near Hollywood. Tough as nails, but her laugh? Gold. She’d say, “Larry, I’m my own boss!” Made me happy, that grit—still does.

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So, I head over to the workshop on Kitasaito Street. It’s a cozy little spot, filled with the smell of wood shavings and varnish. I love it. But today? Ugh. My tools were all messed up. Like, who even touched my stuff? I swear, if I find out who it was… Anyway, I spent half the mornin’ lookin’ for my favorite chisel. It’s like it grew legs and walked away.

Girl’s death in Japan prompts probe of alleged bullying