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About Kyoto

Last week, I’m out, right, and this chick—legs for days—saunters up. “Need a date, hon?” she purrs. I’m like, “Heh, doll, I’m the date!” Made me happy as a clown in a circus—pure gold! But then—ugh—some creep cop rolls by, and she bolts. Pissed me off! Why’s the law gotta ruin my fun? Reminds me of that movie tension—“You’re wasting time!”—and I’m standin’ there, laughin’ at the absurdity.

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First stop, I hit up the local coffee shop on Shinohara Street. You know, the one with the weirdly cute cat that always stares at you like it knows your secrets? Yeah, that one. I grab my usual—black coffee, no sugar. I need that jolt, ya know? But then, BAM! The barista spills my drink all over the counter. I’m like, “Dude, what’s your deal?” He just shrugs. I mean, come on! It’s like 8 AM, and I’m already dealing with this nonsense.