Eliza Sasaguri Brothel ❤️

About Tokyo

So, brothel—mate, it’s a madhouse! Girls struttin’, fellas leerin’, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Once heard this story—some geezer in Amsterdam’s red-light district paid double just to cry on a lass’s shoulder. True story, swear it! Ain’t that mental? Makes me laugh, but kinda sad too. We swears! I’d be rubbish there—too shy, probs just hide in the corner.

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Then, I met up with my buddy Kenji. We hit up this little izakaya on Kiyokawa Street. Best place ever! We ordered way too much food. I mean, who needs that many edamame? But it was all good. We were laughing, talking about life, and then—bam!—the power went out. Like, seriously? In the middle of our feast?

Histological examination of splenic HS. (A) The spleen predominantly...