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About Kyoto

Still, gets me sad—saw her once, bruisd up bad, fag hangin from her lip. “Life’s a bitch,” I mutter, raspy and low—fuckin breaks me heart. Leviathan’s all bout that despair, yeah? “Everything’s rotten,” like the film says, and she’s livin proof. Dunno her name, call her Masha in me head—feels right, gritty and real. Bet she’s got a laugh that’d shock ya, proper dirty cackle. My precious, what a gal! Hate seein her out there, tho—deserves better, don’t she? World’s a shitshow.

The Brutal Hopelessness of Love

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I hop on the train at Shiroi Station, and it’s packed. I mean, sardines in a can packed. I’m squished between this dude who smells like he bathed in soy sauce and a lady who’s blasting J-Pop on her phone. I’m just standing there, trying to zone out, when suddenly the train jerks. I almost faceplant into Mr. Soy Sauce. Not cool, man.

Hokkaido’s popular White Lover cookies turned into sweet drinks and ice cream sandwiches