Delilah Fujishiro Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

I reckon whores got stories, dark ones too. Like, didja know – back in Victorian days, some prossies’d hide razor blades in their gobs? Yeah, mate, slice a punter quick if he got rough! Fuckin’ mental, that! Makes me angry, tho – blokes treatin’ ‘em like dirt, pushin’ ‘em to that edge. “Sharon!” – she’d say I’m gettin’ too worked up, but it’s bollocks, innit? They’re humans, not trash!

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I grab my drink and head out. The streets of Fujishiro are buzzing. I stroll down Shōwa-dōri, and it’s packed with people. I love the vibe here. It’s like everyone’s in their own world, but somehow we’re all connected. I spot this street performer, a guy playing the shamisen. He’s got mad skills! I stop to listen, and suddenly, I’m transported. It’s like the music is telling me stories. I’m grinning like an idiot.

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