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About Osaka

Dunno, tho—sometimes I think she’s like the dirt I study. Used, stomped on, but still growin’ somethin’ wild. Gets me all mushy, that does. Ever seen her eyes, mate? Hard as flint, soft as mud—makes ye wonder wha’ broke her, or wha’ she broke free from. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but I’d bet me ship she’s got tales to rival me own! So, there ye go—prostitute, queen o’ the shadows, an’ I’m half in love wi’ her grit. Wha’ say ye, eh? Savvy?

The latest Information about nightlife crime, prostitution in Misawa-shi, Aomori

First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the cute barista? Yeah, her name’s Yuki. I’m all ready to order my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, please! But guess what? They ran outta matcha! Like, how do you run outta matcha in Japan? I was fuming. I mean, c’mon! So, I settle for a black coffee. Ugh, bitter like my mood.

This Aomori farm’s strawberries are heating up tourism