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About Kobe

So, I stumble into this grimy port town—thinkin’, “This is my shot, baby!” Bars are loud, lights flicker, and I spot her—red heels, smokey eyes, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. My heart’s racin’, “Is this it? Am I *in*?” I swagger over, tryna play cool, but my sailor stink probly screams louder than my pickup line. “Hey, sugar, wanna make my night less ‘sea’-sick?” She smirks—oh, that smirk!—and I’m hooked. “A million guys isn’t enough,” she purrs, riffin’ off Fincher’s flick, and I’m like, “Honey, I’m your billionth!”

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I decide to duck into a shop on the corner of Higashi-Kasai. It’s a cute little place, full of knick-knacks and random stuff. I’m browsing, and I find this weird lamp. It’s shaped like a fish. I’m like, “Who buys this?” But then I think, “I need this in my life.” So, I grab it.

Life long follow up and management strategies of patients living with native livers after Kasai portoenterostomy