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About Yokohama

Picture this: winter mornin’, sun’s barely up, and bam—trees lookin’ like they’re wearin’ diamonds. Hoar’s not just frost, nah, it’s special—tiny ice crystals, spiky, growin’ straight outta vapor. No liquid stage, just poof—magic! I read somewhere—prolly X or some nerdy site—that it’s “sublimation in reverse,” and I’m like, whoa, science is hot! Made me happy, ‘cause I’m a nerd in disguise—don’t tell the squad.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting for cover, lookin’ like a wet dog. I duck into a café on the corner of the street. It’s cozy, smells like fresh coffee. I order a matcha latte, and the barista’s super nice. We chat about the weather, and I’m like, “Yeah, it’s a real mood killer.” She laughs, and I’m like, “Okay, I’m not the only one who thinks this is ridiculous.”

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