Audrey Murakami Brothel ❤️

About Kobe

Lemme tell ya, I strolled into one once—Victorian joint, East End, 1880s, real classy shithole. Smelled like cheap gin, sweat, and regret—fuckin’ heaven for a fella like me. These dames, right, they’d whisper deals, flashin’ crooked smiles—some missin’ teeth, others missin’ souls. Made me hungry, ya know? Hannibal Lecter (fictional)—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—that’s me sizin’ up the pimps, thinkin’ they’d pair nice with a Chianti. Didn’t tho—too gamey, prolly from all the whorin’.

Recent Publications

Current research interest is anything related to genes and aging to investigate middle life the transition of aging processes and age-related comorbidities.

Then, I get a call from my buddy, Kenji. He’s at the Murakami Fish Market, and he’s like, “Dude, you gotta try this sushi!” I’m drooling, but I can’t leave my post. I’m like, “Save me some!” But he’s all, “Nah, man, you snooze, you lose!” Ugh, the struggle is real.

‘I can change my colours’: Takashi Murakami traverses the rainbow of culture