Penelope Biratori Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tokyo

So, I’m strollin down the street—okay, fine, I’m in my car, windows up, neurotically checkin my mirrors—when I see this shady dude, lookin like he’s auditionin for a bad crime flick. He’s got the trench coat, the sly grin—total “find a prostitute” energy. And I’m like, “Really? REALLY?!” What happened to class, huh? Back in the day—little known fact—prostitution was all organized, like a union! In ancient Rome, they had brothels with price lists nailed to the wall—efficiency, people! Now? It’s all sketchy vibes and awkward eye contact. Makes me wanna scream, “Get a room—or a robot!”

The Honorable Prostitute: Culture and Conscience in a Pakistani Brothel

First stop, the local café, Café de Biratori. I needed my caffeine fix. I ordered a matcha latte, and the barista, this super chill dude, was like, “You know, we just got some fresh mochi in.” I was like, “Dude, gimme that!” Mochi and matcha? Perfect combo. But then, I spilled half my latte on my sketchbook. Ugh! I was so mad! My sketches were ruined!

What does it mean to be Ainu today? Contemporary perspectives of an indigenous people of Japan revealed in UK-first exhibition