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About Kawasaki

Hate the stench, tho—sweat, desperation, clings like damp rot. Exaggerating? Maybe. But I’d burn it down, watch it blaze—*I choose violence,* always. Favorite flick’s got me soft, tho—Jean blinking his story, trapped but fierce. Brothel girls got that fire too, some of ‘em. Others? Dead-eyed, broken. Makes me wanna scream—or laugh. Dunno. You ever been? Smell’s the worst, trust me. Stick to the books, mate—less fleas.

Inside the Enigmatic Brothels of Japan

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Finally, I find a spot to charge my phone. I sit down, and this lady next to me starts chatting. She’s super nice, but she’s also super chatty. I’m trying to be polite, but inside I’m like, “Lady, I’ve got financial planning to do!” But she’s telling me about her garden and how she grows the best tomatoes in Nyuzen. I’m nodding along, but my mind is racing.

Forest Grove visit makes big world smaller for Japanese students