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About Yokohama

Still, some bits are funny. This lass I know, right, she swiped a baker—thought he’d knead her good. Ended up with stale bread and a limp cock. Hah! Sex-dating’s a gamble, mate, a roll of the dice in a shit-stained tavern. “The world shines with eternal light,” my arse—it’s a cesspit, but I can’t look away. You wanna play? Fine, but don’t cry when it’s all “hey bby” and no throne. Me? I’d rather fuck a dragon than trust these apps. Cold disdain, always—cheers!

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Anyway, I settled for some random stuff. I mean, who knew a melon bread and iced coffee could be a breakfast combo? Not me, but I was desperate. So, I chowed down while walking down the bustling streets. Sasaguri is wild in the mornings. People everywhere, bikes zooming past, and the smell of yakitori wafting from the stalls.

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