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About Tokyo

But oi, the stench – sweat, cheap perfume, desperation – hits ya like a brick. Not all glitz, nah, some girls look knackered, trapped. That guts me, mate. “I’m not scared of you,” one whispers, like she’s Suzy from *Moonrise Kingdom*, defiant lil’ thing. Breaks my heart, then patches it up – resilience, yeah? Funniest bit? Some punter stumbles out, trousers half down, yellin’ he’s in love. Mate, you’re a laugh – she’s heard that line a million times!

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Then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji. He’s like, “Yo, you gotta come to Shiba Park. There’s a festival!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m covered in soot!” But he’s persistent. “C’mon, man! Food stalls, games, and fireworks!”

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