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About Tokyo

Exaggeratin’ here, but feels like half the city’s in on it. Walkin’ down the street, see ‘em—heels clackin’, smirkin’. Hate the smirk. Makes me wanna yell, “Get a real job!” Personal quirk? I’d rather talk to my mustache than an escort. More personality. Sarcasm’s my shield—sex escort’s a joke, like payin’ for air. “25th Hour” vibes hit hard—last night, big regrets, no turnin’ back. That’s their life, every damn night. Hate everything about it.

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Now, let me tell you about the streets of Funagata. They’re a mix of old-school charm and modern vibes. I zipped past the old wooden houses on Kameyama, then hit the main drag, where all the shops are. I swear, I could smell the yakitori from a mile away. My stomach growled, but I had no time to eat. Plates first, food later, right?

Kyoto’s bonfire festival to be dimmed as virus precaution